At My Own Pace: The Autobiography of Reizei Mako
by Theralion
Summary: For Reizei Mako, life has largely been about doing things she doesn't want to with the bare minimum effort necessary. A look through her eyes at the experiences, from making friends to her parents' deaths, to competing in a tankery tournament, that caused her to re-evaluate her perspective and choose a goal in life.
1. Matching Paces

**Prologue**

A great deal has happened in the past year. Against all odds, we revived our school's tankery team, defeated an until recently undefeated opponent, and won the tournament, preventing our school from being shut down and me from being held back.

At the time, I could not have believed any of this would happen. And now, I find myself occasionally wondering why I was so reluctant to get involved, considering what I had to gain through my participation, and would have lost had i not.

The reason is because I am a different person than I was back then, and my past self would not- and more importantly, could not- have done what I did. I have changed much since I was a small child, and will change again in the future. As such, I have chosen to chronicle these changes and the reasons behind them, so that I can never forget the person who I once was or lose sight of the person I hope to become.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Matching Paces**

Have you ever felt as though you were on a different wavelength from the rest of the world, as though you cannot alter your own nature to conform to the rest of humanity, while they cannot accommodate the way you live?

Throughout history, people have been unable to fit in for many reasons related to their lifestyle, such as their gender preference, For me, it was my tendency to sleep inwhen I was forced to get up early and go to school. It's hardly the most meaningful point of difference, but it was noticeable how much I differed from the vast majority of people, who followed the "early to bed, early to rise" creed, unless their job specifically required them to work at night.

Whenever I tried to get out of bed in the morning, it was a struggle to wake myself up and remove myself from the bed while I was still tired. Almost paradoxically, I was at my most energetic at night, when most people were exhausted from a long day and ready for bed. I heard that my blood pressure has always been low, which could account for this, but the fact that an abnormal medical condition contributed to my different hours only served to drive home how different and almost unnatural I was.

At times, I felt closer to Nemu, our family cat, than I did with my fellow humans. She kept her own hours, often walking around late at night while sleeping wherever she wished during the day. Even when and how long she slept changed on her own whims and needs. She was on a different schedule than the rest of the family, and she didn't mind at all.

I didn't make many friends while in school for that reason. I mostly slept through lunch breaks when I wasn't eating. I didn't have many interests in common with most of the people, being not motivated enough for the serious students, not at all suited to athleticism in the same way that those who liked sports were, and lacking the interest in various other people's hobbies. For me, it seemed as though associating with others would demand much of me, going at their pace rather than my own. In retrospect, this sounds arrogant of me, but at the time, I couldn't imagine how making accommodations for others could possibly be worthwhile.

My family had various reactions to this. My dad didn't believe in having me force myself to open up to others. My mom and grandma, who were stricter and shorter-tempered, believed that learning some social skills would be good for me and would make forming friendships easier in the future. Then again, when I asked them "But what if the people I reach out to aren't worth becoming friends with?" both of them simply shrugged and said, "good question."

And so, with no skills at reaching out to people, and no way to know who was worth my time and effort, I ended up eating lunch and going home alone for much of elementary school. But all that changed one day a certain girl walked into my life and never left.

* * *

"Reizei-san?" a girl with orange hair said as she walked over to me one day in class just before lunch as I sat at my desk. "How'd you like to have lunch with me?"

"Takebe-san, was it?" I said, and she nodded with an "Mmm-hmm," in response. "What brought this on?"

"Well, I just noticed that you've been having lunch alone all this time, and I wondered if you'd like company."

I was ambivalent toward this, but figured the effort to shoo her away was not worth it. Besides, I reasoned, it could be fun.

"Sure, I guess," I said.

"Ok, great!" Takebe-san said, bounding off toward the lunchroom with a spring in her step as I tried to keep up at a leisurely walk. A few feet into the hallway, she stopped and turned around as I walked to catch up.

"Oh, and can I call you by your first name?" Takebe-san said, seemingly out of the blue.

"Already?" I said. I didn't know if there was any set length of time required for friends to earn the privilege of first name basis with each other, but it certainly didn't seem to be anywhere nearly as soon as the first conversation.

"It's what friends do, right?" Takebe-san said. "You can do the same if you want."

Some might have dismissed how easily she made her gesture as a proof of its frivolity. Indeed, she was less formal with her friends than many of my other classmates. But I saw it as proof that she had simply come to see me as a friend that easily.

"All right, Saori," I said, as we continued toward the cafeteria.

"Then let's go, Mako!" Saori said, walking as quickly as ever, only slowing down to let me catch up.

Even considering how I did things, Saori did, in more ways than one, like to take things quickly.

* * *

Lunch proceeded as usual, with the standard breaking of the ice between friends- talking about our hobbies, our interests and so forth. For me, this was something I had barely done at all, but I noticed that to Saori, it came naturally, almost as though she were reading off a script she had memorized by heart. And yet, for every answer I gave, from casually mentioning that I liked reading and taking naps (due to not being able to think of anything else), to mentioning my parents and grandmother, she listened with rapt attention responded with great enthusiasm, finding what I had to say fascinating. She seemed to be the sort who could become friends with everyone easily.

I had to wonder- there were so many other people she could go out and meet, and likely many people she had already befriended so why would she choose me?

"Just as I expected, you're a really interesting person, Mako," Saori said, almost sensing my unspoken question. "You don't talk much, but when you do, it seems like you've got a lot of intelligent things to say, like you've not only learned a lot, but notice a lot every day. It feels like I'm not only getting to know someone who's really great to talk with, but someone not a lot of other people may know about."

"Many people say I stand out from others," I said. "But talking with you helps me see a little bit of what it's like to be energetic and outgoing; doing all that would be too tiring for me. How do you manage all this?"

"I suppose I just do what comes naturally to me," Saori said. "But I think that you get out of life what you put into it, so that's why I reach out to meet others and do new things, while giving it all I've got."

Typically, I had assumed that you only needed to exert the effort necessary in order to get a desired result, and anything further was a waste, like spending 200 yen on something that should only cost 100. But, I began to wonder; might it be possible that your returns were proportionate to your investment?

The bell rang, signaling that it was time to return to class, and Saori and I, having finished eating, got up to leave.

"Let's go for lunch again tomorrow, Mako!" Saori said as we headed back to class.

I had previously gone along with everything else Saori had done. But now, faced with the possibility of doing it again, I gave my response with a note of decisiveness in my voice, seeing no reason to doubt my decision.

"Sure thing, Saori," I said.

* * *

I had lunch with Saori many times over the next few weeks, to say nothing of all the years to come. At the time, I didn't fully realize the significance of the friendship I had made, or its permanence, but talking with my mom taught me some lessons I didn't fully comprehend until later.

"Mom, I made a new friend at school," I said to my mom after school about two weeks after meeting Saori for the first time, when it no longer seemed strange to call her one. "Her name is Takebe Saori."

"That's wonderful to hear, Mako," Mom said. "So, what's she like?"

"She's... interesting…" I said, not quite having developed the vocabulary to describe friendship. "She's different from me- very energetic and outgoing- and I have to get used to that, but I like being around her."

"That's what being friends with others is all about," Mom said. "You should have at least some common ground, but through talking with others and interacting with them, you can become exposed to new things."

"I suppose, but it's a bit tricky getting used to it," I said.

"All relationships have a bit of give-and-take, including the one between your father and I," Mom said. "You might end up doing things that aren't quite your cup of tea for Saori-chan's sake, but she in turn might end up making compromises of her own for you."

"How do I know that I'm not blindly going along with everything she does and changing for the worse?" I said. I knew a little about peer pressure at this age, and I regarded the idea of being forced to alter your behavior to fit in as utterly odious.

"Good question, Mako," Mom said. "I suppose that's an answer you'll have to find on your own, but balance in all things is critical. I'm sure someone as smart as you will be able to figure it out, but Saori-chan is a good girl- you know that much already."

While I knew enough to realize that sticking around Saori was worthwhile, it took me a long time to understand what Mom meant.

Through making a friend who was in many ways different than I was, I ended up forcing myself outside my comfort zone, a process that would eventually result in my participating in my school's first tournament win. Back then, I never would have believed that I would have achieved such a thing, but I arrived at that point through a gradual process, at my own pace.

* * *

**Author's Note**: This is a story I wrote about Mako's perspective on, among other things, her past, her present at Oarai and some events mentioned but not shown in the show. I chose Maho because she has quite a bit of backstory, almost as much as Miho, and her stoic personality makes it an interesting task of showing what she feels, especially since her reactions are fairly understated. It's also worth showing how she changed over time, and becomes more willing to commit herself, try hard and do things that are difficult for her.

The story will also incorporate Saori, Mako's mother and grandmother, and Sodoko at various points, and look at their relationships with Mako.

Related to that, does anyone else wonder why the writers chose Yukari's point of view for the manga and Saori's for the light novel? The former doesn't shed much light on Yukari apart from what we know already, and mainly serves to give her perspective on Miho, which may be why they had her eavesdrop on Miho's conversation with Kikuyo in Chapter 10. I am, however, interested in seeing translations of the light novel if there are any, particularly whether it reveals anything about Saori's long-time friend Mako that isn't in the anime or manga.

This story will incorporate the "Out of Character is Serious Business" trope from time to time, and a running theme will be how characters act when they are faced with something they are completely unprepared to deal with, resulting in their usual patterns of behavior breaking down. Another theme will be characters doing things that are difficult for them or that they don't like in order to better themselves or achieve a goal.

In showing things from Mako's perspective, she may often make excuses for her actions, but a large part is showing what is inside her head, what causes her to be lazy as well as what motivates her, and how she changes over time.

Not much happened in this chapter, but this was primarily to establish Mako's character, and show that reaching out to others is a significant step to her, as Saori mentions in the manga that she does not have many friends.

Various bonus segments will include other characters' perspectives, as well as a few other shorts, from Mako's perspective or others.

* * *

**Omake**

"So Mako's making friends?" My mother-in-law, Reizei Hisako-san, said as my husband and I spoke with her while my daughter Mako was upstairs doing homework.

"Yes," I said. "It's a girl named Takebe Saori-chan, whom Mako said came over to her and invited her to lunch one day."

My husband smiled and nodded. He and I both viewed this development as a good thing. For him, it meant that Mako would be able to make friends without trying too hard or forcing herself too much. For me, it was the first step on a journey for Mako, of making sacrifices and compromises, finding those who would do the same for her, and broadening her horizons and opening up to others. Hisako-san smiled for a moment, then launched into one of her usual rants.

"About time!" Hisako-san said. "I was worried she'd never learn to talk to the other kids her age. Hopefully next time, she'll take the initiative instead of waiting for it to drop in her lap. It's a good thing Saori-chan isn't from the wrong crowd like some delinquent."

"But you are quite happy about this, aren't you, Hisako-san?" I said, noticing that when she wasn't complaining about how long it had taken Mako to make a friend, the smile had never left her face.

"Well..." Hisako-san began, almost sheepishly, "Yes, you could say I am."

"She understands you quite well, Mother," my husband said, with a chuckle.

Forming relationships between two people, even compatible ones, was by no means an easy process, as my husband had found out in his initial attempts to break the ice and get closer to me. But in doing so, we gained many happy memories, learned much from and about each other, and brought a daughter into the world together. It was now up to us to raise that daughter, to teach her important lessons, and help her to live a fulfilling and happy life.


	2. Words Spoken In Anger

**Chapter 2: Words Spoken In Anger**

"You'll understand one of these days."

This statement is both undeniably true and completely useless for a kid. A desire for instant gratification is one of the foremost vices of the young, but wanting to be able to act on the advice one has been given in the moment is a legitimate desire. Equally legitimate is the frustration kids feel with adults over being seen as kids who can't understand what they're told; not all kids who disagree with adults feel this way merely because they don't let them do the things they want.

Then again, with age often comes wisdom, and it is at times easier to be dispassionate looking back on your experiences than it is when you're still experiencing them. So perhaps adults who say that are often correct, but I can't help but wonder if they could say things that would make sense to children while they're still young. Or perhaps adults are, while older and wiser, just as human as the kids are.

I do have many things I would like to say to my younger self; to tell myself to have better habits, to not make the mistakes I did, and to recognize good advice when I hear it. It's partly out of a regret over my decisions and attitudes back then, and partly out of a desire to not have to live with the consequences. But I also realize my mistakes defined me to an extent, and as painful as remembering them often is, forgetting them would mean also forgetting the lessons that came with them.

The next part of my story is the one that is most difficult for me to tell; only Grandma, Saori and a handful of other people have heard it. But it is one of the most defining moments of my life, and as much as I wish it had never happened, I will always remember it and live by the wisdom purchased at such a painful price.

* * *

One day after class in fourth grade, within a year of meeting Saori, I got my report card back, and perused it while sitting at my desk. I saw the same results as always- relatively good grades, but also comments that I, the student in question, was "not living up to her full potential".

"How did you do, Mako?" Saori said as she walked over, and we showed each other our report cards. "Better than I did, I guess. It's hard for me to get good grades, and I feel as though I have to work hard all the time to even get acceptable results." Her gaze then fell on the comment about my not putting in my full effort. "But isn't it worth finding out just how well you can do at school?"

"Worth all the trouble it would be?" I said, prompting Saori to sigh in exasperation.

"Well, it's kind of like eating your vegetables," Saori said. "You may not like it, but it's good for you, even if you have to take the grown-ups' word for it."

"Maybe," I said. "But to use your metaphor, do you always have to clean your plate? You do have to try, but do you have to put in your full effort?"

"I'm just saying... like I said earlier, you get out of it what you put into it, you know?" Saori said.

I couldn't think of anything to say in response to that, so I simply looked at her with a skeptical stare. As we both recognized that we were at an impasse, the conversation dried up until Saori restarted it by bringing up something that was a frivolous conversation subject, but an effective diversion.

* * *

From what I've heard, most children approach school with at least a measure of reluctance. Even those who enjoy it have days when they don't want to go. For me, the worst part was how rigid and inflexible it was. It always began early in the morning, forcing me out of bed, at the same times on the same days of the week every week. You had to stay for the entire duration, and put in at least a reasonable degree of participation; clearly I wasn't the only student who thought it might be a good time to sleep, and the teachers were no less aware of people like me thinking this.

People took everything so seriously. If you were a few moments past the bell, you were counted as tardy. You had to wear the same uniform to school every day. The students were graded and ranked on their performance. A single number, seemingly arbitrarily given, was considered either a mark of good or bad performance and was, by various people's standards, either acceptable or unacceptable. At my age, it was difficult to see how useful what I learned was.

So I had to wonder, what was the point in doing well and adhering to these guidelines? I found that most of the kids who valued doing well were parroting what the adults- the teachers and their parents- told them when they were asked about why they did what they did. Saori, who wasn't particularly fond of or good at studying, had once given a more honest answer- "It's a hassle, you know, but you've got to do it, and you might as well do as well as possible, right?"

I actually took that to heart, to an extent. I went with the flow, did my homework, and studied enough so that I could pass without being accused of shirking my responsibilities. Doing so was troublesome, especially forcing myself awake in the mornings after my mom dragged me out of bed, but for the most part, not as much as the consequences of not doing it. For some time, I thought this was good enough, and if I did everything I was asked, I would be able to get by without much fuss. As long as I was faced with nagging and other consequences, slacking off was not the path of least resistance.

But it turned out that those close to me had higher expectations than I did, and nothing less than my best would satisfy them.

* * *

At breakfast the morning after I got my report card, Mom and I were sitting at the table, eating, when the conversation shifted to my performance in school.

"Mako, your teachers say that you aren't realizing your full academic potential," Mom said.

"Isn't how I'm doing good enough? I'm passing, aren't I?" I said.

My question seemed innocent enough at the time. The school had its own set of standards, so wasn't it good enough to meet them without going for a self-imposed and more difficult to achieve goal? But my ignorance of the bigger picture struck a nerve with Mom, almost like a traveler to a new land asking a native just who the land's guardian deity was and why he was so important did.

"You're not doing as well as you could be," Mom said, anger seeping into her voice. "You would easily be at the top of the class if you'd just put some effort in!"

I couldn't help but take that personally, and reflect on the negative interpretation of that suggestion. So Mom perceived me as lazy, right? Her words certainly seemed to suggest this

"Easy for you to say, Mom!" I fired back. "You're not the one who has to drag yourself out of bed every day, study all day and do homework once you get home!"

At this point, the gloves were off, and this had devolved from what might be described a seemingly civilized verbal boxing match to an ugly brawl that included kicking, biting and blows below the belt. The argument had turned personal and utterly emotional, and we were now yelling at each other in our rage.

"It's for your own good, young lady!" Mom shouted. "Believe me, things only get harder from here on out, and you won't be prepared for them if you can't even get up in the morning and go to school on time!"

"Well, if it's so darn important that I get to school on time, I'd better get going then, right!?" I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I then darted off as soon as I finished, having had enough of what my mom was saying.

I ran out of the house, not looking back, as Mom called out to me. In my haste, I left half my breakfast on the table, and only barely remembered to pick up my bag as I dashed by the door. If I hadn't been in my uniform at the moment, I might not have remembered to change. I never liked school, but it seemed, at this moment, to be a place where I could go to get away from my parents, much like a sailor diving overboard to escape a burning ship.

I seethed with anger as the argument replayed in my head. Wasn't anything I did good enough for Mom? Would she ever be satisfied with how I did? Would nothing short of working myself to exhaustion for academic perfection be satisfactory? In my mind, every time I jumped over the bar, it raised, and every time I fell short, I was criticized. There seemed to be nothing wrong with keeping it low enough that I could comfortably jump over it without putting in my full effort, especially when excelling seemed to increase expectations without increasing the rewards.

Of course, this all came from the foolish shortsightedness of a child. As I grew older, I began to see the value in being able to reach to great heights, and began to develop the patience to tolerate what I disliked as long as it was for my own good. In time, I would come to admit that my parents had a point and regret what I said, as well as the way I said it.

But I would never get the chance to say any of that to my parents. Little did I know, as I ran out of the house that morning, that it would be the last time I saw them alive.

* * *

**Omake**

I sat at the kitchen table, taking a deep breath, after Mako had stormed out of the house, unwilling to continue arguing with me any longer.

"Dear?" my husband said after I had calmed down for a few minutes, evidently having overheard the argument. "I think you were a little hard on Mako."

"I'm not trying to be mean," I said. "You know that Mako's smarter than both of us. She just needs the motivation to succeed when she heads off to middle school at sea in a few years. I just… I know I didn't do a very good job of communicating that. I lost my temper and took it personally."

"To be fair, so did she," my husband said. I let off a bitter chuckle. It was rather humiliating to be compared to a child, and I suspect my husband, who had a gift for being snarky when he felt like it, knew this. "You should talk with Mako when she gets home. By then, you and she will have calmed down."

"I know," I said. "I'm just worried I won't be able to find the words to say to her, to tell her I'm sorry while also convincing her to apply herself. I've always been this way, haven't I?"

"You remind me of my mother in that regard," my husband said. "The two of you have short tempers and difficulty with expressing yourselves to others, but limitless compassion towards the ones you love."

I then remembered the time I went before Hisako-san to ask for her son's hand in marriage. She had, after all her demanding to know that I would be good enough for her son, expressed a high standard for her son's happiness, which she said, in the end, that I had met. Praise that is not given out easily is among the most meaningful, and it was in my nature to set high standards for others that I believed they could meet.

"That's why Mother took a liking to you, you know," my husband continued. "And that's why I think you'll ultimately find a way to get through to Mako."

And now, for the sake of Hisako-san's faith in me, as well as for my daughter and her granddaughter, I was determined to find a better way to help Mako live up to her potential. I wanted to let her know that we thought she could do better, and that she had it in her to make the right decisions and live up to her potential, which would be its own reward.

"Thank you, dear," I said. "Shall we be going, then?"

We got into our car and left home, never to return again.

* * *

**Author's Note  
**

Arisa Le Creuset: Thank you for the review.

If you're familiar with Mako's backstory, you know what happens next, and this was largely to illustrate her general perspective on life and schoolwork at the time (It's not hard to imagine Mako slacking off), as well as her emotional state at the time of the argument. I decided to approximate when it happened, since the loss of her parents is only indicated as having taken place while Mako was in elementary school.

Saori often is the one who tries to get Maho to try harder, especially when she mentions that her grandmother will be mad if she gets held back. It's thus possible, based on the fact that Saori has to go to Mako for help in studying for a radio license, that she's not academically gifted, although she certainly seems to try harder than Mako (which admittedly isn't saying much).

Mako's mother was, according to Saori, quite like her mother-in-law, Mako's grandmother. I thus interpret that as her caring for Mako but being temperamental, which most likely caused the argument, along with Mako being less than fully motivated in spite of her intelligence.


	3. What Cannot Be Undone

**Chapter 3: What Cannot Be Undone**

"Good morning, Mako!" Saori said as she met up with me on our way to school, completely unaware of what had happened at the Reizei household that morning. As we got to know each other, we realized that our routes to school intersected, a short distance from our homes, and had begun walking to school together.

"Morning…" I said, hesitantly.

"Is something the matter?" Saori said. I have a somewhat good poker face, but Saori is perceptive enough to see through it, a skill she is able to use on her old and new friends.

"I had a fight with my mom this morning," I said. "She was nagging me about wanting me to do better at school and I… lost my temper at her. We had a shouting match and I ran off."

Saori's face turned serious, and I actually found myself a little intimidated by her expression, seeing as how unlike her it was to look that way. Evidently noticing the effect it had on me, she silently stared at me for a few seconds before speaking.

"You know, Mako, your mom really cares about you," Saori said in an uncharacteristically stern tone of voice. "That's why she pushes you so much, because she thinks you can do better and that you will benefit from doing so. The least you could do is show her some gratitude, and not get mad at her when she's trying to _help_ you."

I found myself unable to say anything in response to Saori. There was no two ways about it- Mom might have lost her temper as well and been overly harsh with me, but no matter how much I thought about it, I could only argue with her tone, rather than her message. What Saori had said brought me back to that fundamental truth, and the only way to rebut that argument- to deny what Mom was saying- was impossible for me. And now that I had time to reflect on what I had said, I began to burn, not with anger, but with shame over my impulsive and ill-considered statements I had made while consumed with rage.

A knot formed in my stomach as I felt the familiar feeling of knowing beyond a doubt that I was in the wrong, and realizing that the only thing to do was to swallow my pride and apologize.

"All right," I said. "I'll apologize to her after school. Maybe we'll both have time to calm down and think things over by then."

Saori sighed, evidently noticing the degree of reluctance in my voice, but relieved that I would do what I said I would.

"That's good to hear," she said, as we continued on to school.

* * *

I spent most of the day thinking about the argument and how best to apologize. I realized that my mom would not necessarily let me off the hook, but knew that she cared, and that as Saori said, I should do more to show appreciation for the care and act in a way that would enable me to do as well as my mom believed I would. I believed the time at school would allow me to find the words to say to her, and would enable her to cool down and be more willing to listen to them.

Suddenly, midway through the last period of class, a message came over the PA system and got my attention.

"Reizei Mako-san, please come to the main office, your grandmother has a _very_ important message for you."

Immediately, this struck me as somewhat suspicious. Even if my mom was still mad at me, couldn't my dad come? They had never done anything like this before, though, so what could be important enough to pull me out of class?

"You should get going, Reizei-san," the teacher said, as I was paralyzed with indecision for a moment.

As I slowly got up and walked out of the classroom, I did so under the assumption that whatever news awaited me in the main office could not possibly be good. Saori must have realized it as well, as out of the corner of my eyes, I saw her gaze follow me out of the room. I think she was trying to think of an excuse to get out of class and follow me to the office.

* * *

The walk to the main office was the longest few minutes of my life, as I wondered- what was so important that they needed me over there? And why wouldn't they give me even a hint about what it was? When I reached the main office, I saw Grandma standing there, as I expected, but something seemed off about her. Rather than seeming energetic, feisty and hot-tempered as usual, she seemed to be forcing herself to be there, much like how I forced myself to wake up and go to school in the morning.

"Mako… sit down and listen carefully to what I have to say," she said, looking as though she were in a daze. I complied, taking a seat on one of the chairs that visitors and students sat in to wait, despite the fact that it was already obvious that this would not end well. Grandma took a deep breath before continuing.

"Around noon today, your parents were in an auto accident. Both of them are dead."

My entire world froze for a moment. I began to wonder- was this a practical joke of some sort? But Grandma was not the sort to play such jokes, especially not when she was acting so unlike herself. And if it was not a joke or an utterly cruel and malicious lie, the only possibility remaining was that it was the truth. The unthinkable had happened- I had lost both of my parents at once.

"Mako?" Grandma said, as I sat there, not saying anything or comprehending the passage of time.

The part of my mind that I used for determining what to say and how to say it, among others, simply shut down. I was not unfamiliar with the concept of death, having heard that all my grandparents but the one standing in the room with me had passed on. But why did my parents have to die? Why so soon? And why before I could apologize to my mother?

"This… this can't be happening…" I said. "Mom…Dad… No…no...NO! No-o-o-o…" My voice broke as I began to cry, consumed by grief so intense that it not only caused me to almost completely shut down, but it defied most of my attempts to describe it.

.Grandma knelt down, took me in her arms, and hugged me. I calmed down enough to speak, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was that which I had most desperately wanted to express.

"Mom…" I said between my sobs, "I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry…"

I softly repeated those words, the words I had wanted to say to Mom, but never would get the chance again, barely cognizant that the one person I wanted to hear them was now and forevermore lost to me.

* * *

A few minutes later, I had calmed down enough to get ready to go home, but I was still, for all intents and purposes, an emotional wreck, struggling to comprehend what I had just heard.

As I walked out of the main office with Grandma, I noticed Saori standing outside.

"Mako, what happened!?" she said. "You look _terrible_."

Saori's remark was an understatement; tears were streaming down my face, which had turned as red as a tomato. I no longer had any desire or capacity to hide my feelings at this point.

"It's too late, Saori…" I said, choking back a sob. "My parents are dead!"

"…I'm so sorry, Mako," Saori said, placing a hand on my shoulder. She understood very well what I was feeling at the moment, and was now seeing our conversation that morning in a different light. But she also understood very well that words alone could not heal this wound to my heart, and as a result, fell silent after her immediate and sincere expression of sympathy.

"I'm sorry, I'm going to have to take Mako home," Grandma said after a moment had passed, as she beckoned me forward. "Hearing of this has been difficult for her, to say the least, and there are other matters that we must deal with. We appreciate your condolences, though."

"Ok..." Saori said hesitantly, with a look of utter despair and helplessness on her face as she watched me walk away. She had done the right thing in urging me to apologize, but now that her advice was no longer effective, she did not know what she could or needed to do for me.

* * *

Immediately afterward, I was taken home. In spite of our grief, there were certain preparations that had to be made. I would be staying with Grandma from now on, as she had become my legal guardian and caretaker.

Our dinner that evening was small and rather hastily put together. Grandma and I were barely in any mood to eat, and she was hardly in any mood to cook. But the demands of our bodies, as always, did not abate, despite my wish for the world to stop until I was ready to go on again, if going back in time were too much to ask.

Immediately after dinner, I went up and lay down on my bed, my homework set aside on my desk. It was at the end of the day, when I should have been at my most energetic, but even though I didn't feel tired at all, I felt as though moving, much less doing anything else, required strength I did not have. Despair and grief, rather than exhaustion, weighed me down, and lying there did not seem to alleviate tat.

As I lay there on my bed, Nemu walked toward me, and with a meow, brushed against my side. For a moment, I thought she was oblivious to everything that I had been through on that day, including the fates of her primary humans.

But perhaps it didn't matter to her. I was essentially part of her family, and she did what she always did – being there for me. My parents had always been there in their own way, but now that they had died, they could no longer do so; I had not appreciated it until it was too late. And as I reached out and stroked Nemu, I vowed never to make that mistake again.

I cried for hours, as I lay there in my bed, thinking of the mistakes I had made, the happy memories that I would never recreate and the parents I would never get back. As I did, I lay in my bed, unable to fall asleep, the one thing that came naturally to me more than anything else. When I did fall asleep-I'm not sure how many hours it was past my bedtime- it was simply due to exhaustion.

And as the worst day of my life drew to a close, I drifted off to sleep with the vain hope that I would wake up and this would all be a bad dream. But for me, for my grandmother, and for everyone else, there was no going back to the way things were before, and I would live many of the years to come in the shadow of this event.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Arisa LeCreuset: Thank you for the review. The omakes will continue, usually from the perspective of characters other than Mako, but they won't be every chapter.

It's interesting portraying how Mako would have acted immediately after hearing of her parents' deaths, since in the main series, the closest she comes to breaking down is when she hears about her grandmother being hospitalized. In large part, this fic is meant to bring out her inner thoughts, and serve as a way for her to express that which she does not express much in the anime, as well as portray her in some of her more vulnerable moments.

I suspect that Hisako would, out of the grief over losing her son and daughter-in-law, and out of consideration for Mako's feelings, not be acting as her ordinary Tsundere self in the wake of Mako's parents death.


	4. Regrets and Rededication

**Chapter 4: Regrets and Rededication**

"Mako, it's time to wake up."

I had heard those words before many times, but this was the first time they came from Grandma.

"Ugh… really?" I said, forcing my eyes open.

"I know you're not going to school today, and… all things considered, you most likely didn't sleep well, but it's still best to get up on time," Grandma said. "I think your mother would say the same thing."

It was at this point that it dawned on me just how much my life had irrevocably and permanently changed. Every morning for the rest of my life, I would be waking up without my parents.

All day, I looked for my parents around the house, in their usual places; Mom and Dad's room, Dad's office, the living room and the kitchen. In the evening, I watched the driveway for their car, until I recalled that it had been totaled in the accident. In all the aspects of my life, from the major ones to the small ones, I had counted on them being there, and while a day was not enough to get used to the fact that they were no longer in my life, it was enough to drive home that I could no longer deny it.

And as I went to bed again that night, I realized that if anyone woke me up from now on, it would be Grandma or my alarm clock. My life had changed, in large ways and small, in obvious ways and subtle ones, but for the most part, permanently.

* * *

The funeral, held the next day, was, more than anything, depressing. Any part of me that was in denial about my parents being dead faded the moment my grandmother and I arrived at the funeral, but I still felt as though I was not yet ready to face life without them. And yet this, like many other things, was not something I could postpone facing until I was ready, and the same went for those who, like me, were orphaned at a young age.

My parents' remains lay in two wooden boxes, with pictures of them in happier times being all that was left to illustrate them. Then, the boxes were inserted into the crematorium, and reduced to ashes. All that remained of the two people who brought me into the world and raised me could fit into a small urn even I could carry. Were our lives meant to end this abruptly and this senselessly? Were we meant to leave so little behind?

I suppose the large number of people who attended was proof that my parents were well-liked, and that in their lives, they had left an impression on the people around them. But it also showed how large a hole they left with their passing, and each person bore their share of the pain of loss. How many funerals of family, friends and other people I cherished would I have to attend? Was this what I had to look forward to when I joined them?

* * *

Although I could never go back to the way things were before life still had to go back to a normal routine, and I returned to school shortly after my parents had died.

"Good morning, Mako," Saori said as we walked to school on the first day of class I attended after the funeral.

"Good morning, Saori," I said in an unenthusiastic tone that would have indicated severe depression if Saori used it, but was no different from my standard demeanor in the years to come.

Some people, after a tragedy like this, vow never to get close to anyone again to avoid getting hurt. But even back then, I knew that was impossible. We mourn the loss of our loved ones because they are important to us, and if we cut ourselves off from others, it's an ultimately empty existence that is no different than the end result of losing everyone we value. The truth was that I did love my parents, and that the pain I felt came from a sense of loss and regret.

But make no mistake; events like these do impact people, and I did change over time. Likely the result of seeing how much I could regret after losing my temper and speaking in anger, I became more detached from my emotions. As a result of being exposed to the harsher side of life at so young an age, I became more cynical and sarcastic. And after learning what it meant to experience loss, I lost all patience I had for people who obsessed over trifling things or thought themselves on top of the world. It wasn't entirely removed from my previous personality as an aloof loner, but people rarely make 180 degree turns in their personality, and never do so overnight.

I'm sure Grandma and Saori noticed how I had changed, even if they didn't openly bring it up, like the proverbial elephant in the room.

"Mako, I know there's not much I can do for you, but at the very least, I can listen to anything you want to talk to me about," Saori said.

"That's good enough," I said. Indeed, I had many wishes, but most of those were beyond the power of Saori or anyone else to grant. But Saori did what she could, and that alone was enough to touch me in that time. I smiled as much as I could manage to express my gratitude.

* * *

"Mako, I've been meaning to ask this for a while now," Grandma said one evening relatively soon after the funeral. "But isn't there something else on your mind at the moment? Immediately after you heard the news, I heard you apologizing to your mother."

I sighed, realizing that I could no longer keep it to myself, as shameful as this admission was.

"There is," I said. "Just before I left for school on the morning Mom and Dad died, Mom and I argued about my schoolwork. Firing off one last parting verbal jab, I ran out of the door while we were angry with each other. While I was walking to school school, I, with Saori's help, realized how ungrateful and immature I'd been. And now my mom's dead, most likely dying angry at her bratty, lazy daughter, and there's no way I can take back what I said or tell her how sorry I am."

A pregnant pause ensued as Grandma considered what I had said.

"I'm not a mind reader or a spiritual medium," Grandma said. "But when she married my son, your mother became part of the Reizei family as much as your father was. I don't let just anyone into the family, and I had all sorts of expectations for your mother, all of which she met or exceeded, and she struck me as especially kind at heart, caring for your father for a great deal and saying that she wanted to win my approval so that, as she put it, the two women most important to him would be able to get along, since we'd all be part of the same family if she married him. Those thoughts you assume she had at the time of her death are just not like her."

"I… hadn't heard that," I said, having never been told the story before, although I had heard that maternal grandmother and both my grandfathers had passed away by the time Mom and Dad married.

"You should really know your own mother better than that, Mako," Grandma said firmly yet compassionately. "She might have a temper, but she could never hate her own daughter, and I'm sure she had forgiven you and sought a way to make amends with you while still trying to help you succeed."

I remained silent as I considered what Grandma had said. She obviously had no way of knowing or verifying what she had said, but she said it with such conviction and sincerity that I found myself unable to deny it. Shouldn't I know my own mother better than that?

I also began to see things in a new light, stopping my focus on myself. How many years had it been since Grandma's own parents had passed on? And if I had lost my parents, hadn't she lost her son? In spite of her grief, she chose to press on even when it was difficult, for the sake of looking after me. And what could I do, other than eat the food she brought home and go to school?

I decided then and there that it was time to find out. I wanted to prove to Mom that I could succeed at something beyond the call of duty when I tried. I wanted to repay Grandma for taking me in and caring for me, as well as do what my parents would have done for her.

"I've decided, Grandma," I said. "I'm going to do my best in school and graduate as soon as I can, so that when I do, I can be the one to look after you."

Grandma smiled for a moment, touched, but then after assuming a contemplative expression for a moment, shot me a skeptical glance.

"That's all well and good, young lady," she said, "but how can you expect to take care of me when you're not even ready to take care of yourself?

She had a point. I was not yet ready to leave home or meaningfully lessen how much she had to support me while raising me. Then again, the response to that was fairly obvious.

"Then, we'll have to do something about that, won't we?" I said.

"You're going to have to show up on time if you want to graduate on time," she said. "You might as well start with that before you move on to anything more ambitious."

"All right, all right," I said.

It was refreshing in a sense to see Grandma gradually get back to her old grouchy self. Ever since my parents died, she had been unlike what I had remembered, and I wasn't sure whether it was due to her own grief or out of consideration for mine. Like with me, she would likely never fully recover from the loss- her temper was in part due to having been exposed to a lifetime of hardship, with this tragedy being only the latest- but this seemed to be proof that she was able to move on and return to what might be considered normal.

* * *

Over time, I started seriously applying myself in school, and soon rose to the top of the class. Getting up in the mornings was difficult, but Grandma told me that if I didn't get out the door and reach school on time, I would hear from her. One lecture from her on my tardiness was enough, and on the days to come, I was able to get out of bed on time, even if I had to drag myself out the door.

A few months after my conversation with Grandma, I met Saori in the morning again, on our walk to school.

"Good morning, Saori," I said, speaking first for once, after I noticed she was oddly silent that morning.

"Morning, Mako…" Saori said.

This time, however, I noticed that Saori was oddly gloomy and depressed. Something had happened to her, if nowhere near the same magnitude as my hearing of my parents' deaths.

"Is something wrong, Saori?" I said.

"My parents weren't happy about how I did on the last test," Saori said. "I need to get my grades up, or I'm in real trouble. So, Mako, could you please help me study for the next one?"

"Sure," I said.

For some people, deciding so easily and so casually would seem to be proof of insincerity. But would it be right to refuse Saori? I could think of no reason why it would, and it seemed like an easy thing to help her out.

"Thanks, want to meet in the library after school?" Saori said.

"Let's do that," I said.

* * *

"Mako, what's 496 divided by 16?" Saori said as we studied together in the library. "Long division's hard for me."

"31," I said, working out the equation in my head almost instantly. "It's basically just division with bigger numbers."

"Yeah, but how do you carry the numbers and all that?" Saori said. "When I did it on the last test, I got 36."

"Basically, you do it like I showed you, from right to left."

"That's not helping…" Saori said with a sigh.

Unfortunately, helping Saori study was more difficult than I thought. She wasn't stupid or lazy, but she was on a different speed than I was. It took time and effort for her to learn things, and it was occasionally difficult for me to grasp that, like a runner taking a walk with someone on crutches. Explaining things in terms simple enough for someone who had difficulty with it was no easy task, since I had a hard time getting myself into the mindset of such a person.

But a part of me realized that while it was easy enough for me to give up or slack off as soon as it became boring, difficult or otherwise unpleasant, if I were the only one concerned, doing so would be unfair to Saori, who was desperate for help and counting on me. And so, I knew that for her sake, I had to persist and had to succeed.

"Ok, let me walk you through it," I said, then proceeded to demonstrate the problem to her. It was a long, and somewhat painstaking process, but ultimately, it worked.

* * *

As the teacher handed back the next test, I found myself barely noticing my own perfect score- which I had expected to get all along- and waiting eagerly to hear Saori's score.

"Mako, thank you so much!" she said exuberantly while showing me her test paper, "My score went up this time!"

"You're welcome, Saori," I said, with a smile.

It was a start. I wasn't quite ready to care for an aging grandparent, but I was able to be there for a friend when it counted, doing something that was not necessarily easy for me. I realized that I had a long way to go, but hoped that I could gradually mature and prepare myself over time. More than anything, it felt good to be able to use my intellect for someone who needed it.

* * *

Eventually, the time came for us to graduate from elementary school, and I did so at the top of my class. In our society, graduating from elementary school is an important rite of passage, since it means going off to middle school at sea, and living on one's own.

Part of me celebrated this development as a commemoration of moving forward, but part of me, a part that has never forgiven myself for my mistake, lamented that the last my parents saw of me was as an ungrateful and rebellious child, rather than someone who was moving upward and onward, and they could never be there for a day like this.

After the ceremony, Saori and I met up with my grandmother and Saori's parents. After the Takebes congratulated Saori and I, Grandma stepped forward.

"Saori-chan, I'd like to thank you for being there for Mako," Grandma said. "She's not the easiest person to be friends with, and it has been a difficult period in her life, but it means a lot to her. I hope it's been just as meaningful for you."

"It certainly has," Saori said with a smile.

"Yeah," I said.

"Come on, can't you say it better than that?" Grandma said to me.

"I thought you said it pretty well," I said. I find talking about myself to be fairly difficult, since I'm a girl of few words. Telling my story is just one of the many things that are difficult for but beneficial to me.

"Now, now, what's this about?" Saori said, trying to change the subject in addition to her apparent curiosity about why Grandma wanted to speak with her.

"Ah, yes, you do have my number, right?" Grandma said to Saori.

"I do," Saori said.

"When the two of you are at middle school- and, if you end up going to the same place, high school- give me a call any time Mako starts slacking off," Grandma said, and my face tightened in horror. She glanced at me before continuing. "But it's possible that a simple reminder to Mako may be enough."

As much as I feared Saori making a call to Grandma, this time, I recognized the meaning behind it. Grandma wanted to, in her own way, keep watching over me, and keep me on the straight and narrow, in the way that seemed to come most naturally to her.

She was correct when it came to my having to learn how to be independent. Living and going to school on my own was the natural next step for children my age, and I had to learn how to take care of myself if I wanted to take care of someone close to me. I didn't quite know how long or difficult the road toward this goal would be, but it was beneficial to me, and one I would have to walk if I aspired to anything more than that.

* * *

**Omake**

When you get to my age, you often find yourself outliving those closest to you. My grandparents died by the time I graduated from high school. My parents died when my son was in college. My husband passed away shortly before our granddaughter Mako was born. But never did I expect my own son and his wife to die so long before I did.

Makohad lost her parents, and at such a young age. It soon became apparent that she regretted parting from her mother the way she did. Unable to apologize to her mother, she sought some way of easing her pain, or perhaps proving to her mother that she could live up to her full potential and use it for a good purpose.

When Mako stated her intention to look after me, I had mixed feelings. This was the first time she had ever expressed any sort of ambition beyond what was required of her, and it was altruistic. On the other hand, it had hints of youthful overconfidence and focusing on the future at the expense of the present, like planning the great adventures you will have at sea before you even have a ship. How could she drop everything at all hours to care for me if she couldn't even get up on time? She was not yet ready to do chores for herself, so how did she expect to help me with errands and other things that had become more difficult for me?

Of course, my pride came into play. I had difficulty accepting that as I grew older and my health worsened, there was an increasing list of things that I no longer was able to do. And while our culture stressed filial piety, which played some role in why Mako chose to take on this duty, what did it say about me if I had to accept help from a child?

But I also had no intention of providing a burden to Mako that she was not yet ready to take on. I also hoped I would not add to the poor girl's grief with yet another untimely passing. I'm not the best at expressing those feelings but Mako was many things to me- my granddaughter, my son's child, and as much my only remaining family as I was hers- and I wanted her to have as happy and normal a life as she could. But then I also realized- if she could find happiness in looking after me, would it be right to deny her that?

Everyone, it may be a little longer before I join you. I have a goal in my twilight years- to look after Mako until she becomes a woman who can keep her promise, and to ensure that she learns everything that she needs to know in order to take care of herself and those she holds dear.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Thank you for the reviews.

NCYamato: That's part of the reason I wrote this fic. Some future chapters will allude to Mako's perspective on events in the series, detail how they affected her, and show some events that I think happened but weren't shown, such as when Saori alludes to Mako's worrying about Miho in Episode 7.

Hisako can be a challenging character to write, because she, being a Tsundere, doesn't always show her true personality. Her insisting that Mako get back as soon as possible during her hospital visit in Episode 7, for example, can be attributed to a mixture of pride (telling Mako not to treat her like an invalid), concern over Mako's academic status (the comment about Mako being late), and a desire not to impose on Mako. As such, it's a bit of a balancing act to show her temper without making her seem too harsh on Mako.

This chapter is meant to show where Mako got the idea of wanting to graduate so that she could be by her grandmother's side .The next ones will show the various difficulties she encounters while trying to live up to that self-imposed vow; as those with New Year's resolutions can attest, it's not always a simple thing to change your behavior.


	5. Outside One's Comfort Zone

**Chapter 5: Outside One's Comfort Zone**

In spite of my resolve to graduate on time, I found the task more difficult than I had anticipated, since the things I needed to accomplish in order do so went against my very nature. Breaking habits can be difficult; not just ones like smoking that are enforced by virtue of being addictive, but habits that run the gamut from your daily routines to the things you do without thinking about them.

The demands of the body are especially difficult to ignore merely through other considerations, such as your responsibilities. No matter how much I knew I had to wake up, I had to fight my body's desire to remain in bed. No matter how little time remained to get to school, I walked at a stagger. I found it bizarre that, in anime and other works of fiction, protagonists could stand up from wounds that would nearly have killed them out of sheer determination to achieve their goals or protect their friends, when for me, willpower was not enough to overcome drowsiness or fatigue.

It also didn't help that a single tardiness was unimportant, especially in my mind, as I believed that my grades were good enough to compensate for that. In my mind, surely the school could compromise a little, especially when my grades were so good. In my mind, learning the material was most important of all, and if I could do that despite being late, it was to my credit.

During our first year of high school, Saori was in a different class from me, and making friends of her own. One of her closer friends at high school was a girl named Isuzu Hana, whom I ended up meeting later. Saori was much better suited to waking up early and socializing than I was, even if she wasn't quite as good at academics.

Saori's interest in socializing was not limited to a solely platonic sense; she had reached an age in which she started to have a serious romantic interest in boys. Unfortunately, she didn't have much luck, especially considering that our school was exclusively for girls.

Even though I was, as always, less social than Saori was, I did end up meeting people on my own, even if not always on the most pleasant terms.

* * *

"You're late again, Reizei-san!" A familiar-looking girl with her hair in a bob haircut called out to me as I staggered to the gates of Oarai about two weeks after starting there. She was carrying a tablet computer and wore an armband in addition to her uniform.

"Do I… know you?" I muttered sleepily. For some reason, all the hall monitors seemed to look alike around here, so I considered it a reasonable possibility that I had seen her before.

"Sono Midoriko, second-year and member of the Disciplinary Committee," the girl said. "I have a computer that lists tardies, and you've already racked up several."

"So…do…ko," I stammered out, struggling to stay awake, and yawning after finishing it.

"That's Sono-senpai to you, Reizei-san!" Sodoko said. "When addressing your elders, you use their proper name and correct honorific!"

"Whatever, Sodoko…" I said while walking off.

My encounter with this girl left me in a bad mood for the rest of the day. She took herself so seriously, obsessing over all the rules and taking pride in her ability to enforce them. She cared more about the letter than the spirit of the rules- I might not show up on time, but isn't it better to show up 15 minutes late than 30 minutes late, and aren't both better than not showing up at all? And did she even question why classes were held the first thing in the morning?

I could picture Sodoko , in about ten years, going to work every day at some office job wearing the same business suit every day, or getting married to a respectable man and having kids, all while sucking up to her betters, preaching her adherence to the rules and looking down on those who didn't do things her way. But then a thought occurred to me- wouldn't that be a pitiful existence? And what if she was forcing herself to do this because she knew no other way?

Those thoughts rarely came to mind, since most of my exposure to Sodoko consisted of her reprimanding me for my lateness. But I had to wonder- just as there was more to me than being an often tardy but excellent student, was there more to her than that?

* * *

Another day, a while after my previous encounter with Sodoko, I walked toward the school, already late, knowing that Sodoko would be on my case regardless of whether I made haste toward the school or walked at a leisurely pace. Perhaps I would be able to wake up by the time I got to the school if I proceeded at a walk; running seemed impossible while I was half-asleep.

Suddenly, my cell phone rang and I picked it up, not recognizing the number.

_"This had better be important..."_ I thought, suspecting even then that I would regret this wish.

"Hello?" I said

"Reizei Mako-san?" a male voice on the other end said.

"Yes?" I said.

"This is Dr. Ishida Tatsuya, of Oarai Hospital," the doctor said. "Your grandmother collapsed earlier this morning and has been taken to the emergency room.. You are… her only remaining family, are you not? We found a card with your number in her purse."

"Yes…" I said, my state of shock freezing my mind to the point at which I could only utter a reflexive response.

"Then it would be best if you could come over as soon as possible, please," he said.

"I will, doctor," I said. He then told me how to get to the hospital. "I'll talk to you there. Goodbye." I said, before hanging up.

I was gripped with terror for a moment as I pondered what had happened, but that went to the back of my mind- albeit not disappearing completely, as I realized what I needed to do.

Sodoko was the last person on my mind as I quickly made my way to the hospital. I didn't care if she gave me detention, held me back or expelled me, or even whether she had the authority to do any of this. What I was worried about, more than anything else, was how bad Grandma's condition was, whether she was still alive or how long she would be, or if I would part from my last living family member, the one who had raised me since my parents' deaths without a chance to say goodbye.

* * *

Grandma was unconscious when I got there, albeit in a stable condition, so the doctor spoke with me about what had happened in his office. It was at this point that I truly realized just what kind of difficulties lay in taking care of someone Grandma's age. But if I didn't step up, who would?

In spite of my resolve, though, I realized that things were unlikely to get better, and it was possible that Grandma had been keeping her problems to herself as long as she could. She always struck me as a fairly proud individual, keeping her grief inside after my parents' deaths as much for the sake of wanting to seem in control as for my sake.

"This…. isn't an isolated occurrence, is it?" I asked the doctor after he had detailed what had happened and Grandma's present condition.

"No, unfortunately," Dr. Ishida said. "People your grandmother's age can be prone to falling, which can have dire consequences for them. Your grandmother's health has been declining over the last few years, so it is entirely possible that there will not only be future instances of this, but the subsequent ones will have more severe repercussions for her."

"And th…there isn't anything that you can do about this?" I said, more accusingly than I intended.

"Reizei-san, please understand," Dr. Ishida said. "While your grandmother is in our care, we do everything in our power to care for her. But for a woman her age, incidents like these are not something that will happen only once, nor is her survival always guaranteed. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but it's also the truth. I cannot say much more to you than that, except that you honestly have my sympathies."

As I listened to the doctor's grim predictions and declaration of the limits of what he could do, my gaze drifted to the single photograph on his desk, showing two adults posing for a picture with their child. I thought the father was the doctor, but he seemed to have a different hair color and more facial hair, compared to the child. The picture thus seemed very old; did he not have a more recent one with his family? Or did he have any other chances to get one?

But in a sense, I began to understand what he was saying, even if I was altogether unhappy. Perhaps he also understood what I had experienced, as well as that which I feared I would.

"I know my grandmother is not in the best of health, doctor," I said. "I know she might collapse again. I know that in the future, she might not be so lucky. I even know that she may not live much longer. But I want to be able to care for her in her remaining years. And, more than anything, I want her, the only family I have left, around."

"For what it's worth, Reizei-san…" Dr. Ishida said, his expression becoming warm and sympathetic, "so do I."

* * *

About an hour later, Grandma came to, and I was able to see her. As I walked into the room, I did so with a sense of trepidation and nervousness of what I would find once inside.

I saw her sitting up in the bed, better off than I had expected, much to my relief. Her expression showed that she was tired, but not entirely surprised to see me.

"Hello, Mako," Grandma said wearily.

"Hello, Grandma," I said as I stepped into the room. An awkward pause ensued, as Grandma looked almost embarrassed. She then glanced over to a small daily calendar on the nightstand, most likely noticing that it was a Tuesday.

"You aren't missing school, are you?" Grandma said crankily, although the discomfort in her face seemed to suggest that most of it was directed at herself. I could only nod in response. "This isn't something I wanted you to see, nor did I want you to have an excuse to get out of class, especially not with your attendance as it is."

"Hey, it's not like it's a picnic here for me," I said. "If I skip class, I at least want to have fun. Besides, it's too late to get back in time for class already; they already called the school and said I'd be out."

"I had hoped you wouldn't have to hear about this," Grandma said resignedly, before turning irritated again. "But so what if I fell? I'm not completely helpless yet, and I won't be treated as an invalid, not by the doctors, not by the government, and especially not by my own family."

Grandma's pride was kicking in again, realizing that because of what had happened to her, people were bending over backwards for her. She was always fairly independent and had no desire to impose on others, so she saw my having to come over for her as humiliating and shameful. But a small part of her was touched that I was willing to come over for her, even if she, realizing that I would do so by nature, hoped I wouldn't have to.

We talked about other things for a few minutes, including what the doctor had told me, and Grandma scoffed at his more pessimistic predictions. I wanted to believe her, so it cheered me up slightly to hear her say such things, even if I suspected she wanted to convince herself as much as me.

"Visiting time's almost over," I said late in the visit, "and I got what I came for, so I should go. You're OK with that, right, Grandma?"

"Do you need to ask?" Grandma said. "You've got too much to do to waste time here worrying about me."

I nodded and started to leave, but when I heard Grandma's voice behind me at the threshold of the door, I stopped and turned around.

"You know, Mako, you really should look to yourself first," Grandma said, her glare replaced by a solemn expression. "It's all well and good to want to be there for others, but you shouldn't neglect your own needs and responsibilities to do so. If you cause them to worry about you while you're looking after them, it defeats the purpose of trying to help them."

"Who says I can't do both?" I said. The question was largely for the sake of getting a final rebuttal in, but I honestly believed this.

Grandma sighed and considered my words for a moment. I thought I saw her smile for a moment.

"If you can manage that, go ahead," Grandma said.

* * *

I returned home in the evening, and prepared to get back to school the next day. But after I had gotten home, told Saori about what had happened, finished my homework and climbed into bed, I was left pondering what the doctor had told me. How long did Grandma have left? Would she be taken from me as suddenly as my parents were, without an opportunity to make amends or say goodbye? Even my most optimistic evaluations of the scenario could not completely blind me to the worse possibilities, and I tossed and turned restlessly in my bed.

* * *

When I next opened my eyes, I realized that I was already running late for class. It was not a case of my being unable to drag myself out of bed this time; I had simply slept through my alarm due to being unable to get to sleep the previous night.

I walked up to the gate, and saw Sodoko standing there as she always was, as though nothing had happened the previous morning.

"Reizei-san, not only are you late today, but you didn't show up yesterday at all!" Sodoko said as she greeted me at the gate.

"Here," I said and handed Sodoko an envelope containing a letter from the doctor. She opened it and perused the contents, which essentially described the situation with my grandmother and said I had been out for the day.

As Sodoko read the letter, her expression shifted from her usual outrage, to a mixture of surprise, shame and sympathy I had never seen on her face before, and I don't think she had ever expected to show to me.

"Go on in," Sodoko said, almost reflexively. "And, Reizei-san… I'm sorry."

Without saying another word, I nodded and entered the school building. Seeing Sodoko at a loss for words was less amusing than I had anticipated, whether because I had not expected it, or because of the circumstances I was in.

One thing I've noticed about our habits and characteristics is that while they are things we commonly do, often without thinking about them, we can only do them when circumstances allow. One case is when something happens that we're completely unprepared to deal with; we merely react to them, with all pretenses and routines falling away.

For Sodoko, it was the first time as seeing me as someone more than the constantly tardy and presumably lazy girl who liked sleeping in that she assumed I was. And for me, it was the first time seeing Sodoko do something other than the stuck-up, rules-obsessed girl I thought of her as. Just as she didn't think there was more to my situation than not liking getting up early, I didn't think her capable of compromising or showing sympathy to others when they didn't follow the rules. When we were no longer acting quite like ourselves, we could not respond to each other's actions in our standard way, and even when we returned to more normal behavior, we did so with the knowledge that the other was no longer as simple or one-dimensional as we had thought.

Perhaps being forced out of our comfort zones was a good thing for the two of us. And in our next year of school, the time would come when we, through Tankery, would experience this again.

* * *

**Omake**

"Sodoko?" I said as I saw a familiar-looking girl at the gates of the school, as I was once again late.

"No… I'm not Sodoko," the girl said. "My name is Gotou Moyoko, and like you, I'm a first-year. It's nice to meet you, Reizei-san."

"Gomoyo…" I said, muttering out a nickname that seemed natural at the moment. If Sodoko's nickname alternated between the characters in her name, then Gomoyo's would use the first parts of each of hers.

"Did Sodoko tell you about me, Reizei-san?" Gomoyo said. "Most people don't know about this nickname. But please, only my friends call me that."

Her soft, almost timid voice stood in stark contrast to Sodoko's nagging and fierce voice. And upon closer inspection, her hair was, despite being in the same color and style as Sodoko's, slightly longer. But she simply recorded that I was late and let me go on my way without a lecture or scolding.

Luckily, I learned to tell the difference between the girls by the time I met Pazomi.

* * *

**Author's Notes  
**

This chapter was to illustrate why Mako doesn't change overnight, and just how hard the task of taking care of her grandmother that she's taken upon herself to do is. Simply put, it goes against Mako's nature of wanting to sleep in and take the path of least resistance, so even if Mako has the resolve to do it, she isn't necessarily ready, not even years after making her decision

Saori says in Episode 7 (where I get most of my information about Mako), that Mako's grandmother has collapsed before. I decided to include the first inident that Mako is aware of. It's indicated that Mako worries about her grandmother quite a bit, and I suspect that the first such incident caused her to fear the possibility of more and worse collapses.

Regarding Hisako, I think she appreciates the visits from Mako, but doesn't want her to miss class to do it, as she expresses in the first part of Episode 7, wanting her to get back to school as soon as possible. It's a bit like not wanting someone to give you a flower as a gift if you had to steal it out of someone else's lawn.

Gomoyo, the long-haired member of the disciplinary committee, seems calmer than Sodoko in many regards, such as when she lets Mako drive their tank without complaint. She also looks more similar to Sodoko than Pazomi does to either of the two.

This concludes the pre-series part of the story. The next few chapters will deal with Mako during the events of the series, including her perspective on events and certain ones that weren't shown in the series.


	6. Approval and Disapproval

**Chapter 6: Approval and Disapproval**

Saori and I moved up a year, and became second-years. I realized that would also make Sodoko a third year, and, consequently, that she would graduate by the end of the year, if she didn't quit the disciplinary committee to study for exams, or something else caused her to leave her position or the school. For some reason, in spite of our clashing every time I came in late, that realization made me less happy than I anticipated, and I felt like I did when one of my friends from middle school moved away.

Saori and I were in different classes again in our second year. She had made friends with Isuzu Hana, one of her classmates in the previous year. In her second year, she befriended a new transfer student, and took an interest in the newly offered Tankery elective.

"I'm getting involved in the new Tankery class," Saori said. "Hana and I became friends with a new student at the school. We'd like to do the same elective together. Why not do tankery too, Mako? I'd like to have all my friends in the same class."

I thought about it for a moment. As Mom had said, making compromises for others was often a good thing, but she didn't disagree with my suggestion that there had to be balance in all things. And what did I have to get out of fighting in an obsolete war machine?

"Tankery seems like such a hassle," I said. "I'm going for calligraphy."

Saori looked somewhat disappointed, and I felt a twinge of guilt go through me. I later learned that while tankery was her first choice, she had temporarily switched to incense because the new student had not wanted to do tankery, and when the new student changed her mind to do tankery, Saori and Hana followed suit. More than anything else, she wanted to stick with the new student, her new friend. In retrospect, she must have taken it quite hard when one of her oldest friends chose to do something else- perhaps her later efforts to get me to participate were out of a personal desire to do it with me, as well as a desire to not see me get held back?

When I saw a presentation on tankery, one thing stood out in my mind- an offer of more credits than the other electives and 200 tardiness passes- enough to offset most, but not all of my tardiness demerits. Perhaps this was the opportunity I had been waiting for, although I was unwilling to take it at the time. A part of me wondered if it was too good to be true, although I later believed this was a rationalization to justify not choosing tankery.

But I also heard that tankery did not only teach how to operate a war machine, but many qualities related to being successful modern women, in the same way that martial arts also promoted physical fitness and discipline. And when I decided to do tankery, I would end up changing myself in the process.

* * *

As I once again forced myself to walk to school in the morning, I was surprised by the presence of another girl on the streets, who was also running late for school. I had not seen her around before, so I wondered if she was a new student unused to the routine. She helped me up and supported me on her shoulder as we walked to school, and ultimately met Sodoko at the gates.

Usually in cases like this, I try to head on without hindering other people, but this time, I ended up causing some girl who was as much a stranger to me as I was to her to feel as though she had to help me out. In my mind, favors like that were not ones that should be taken for granted or left without being repaid.

Sodoko called the girl Nishizumi-san, and I made note of it. I resolved that I would remember her name and pay her back when the time was right. Contrary to what Sodoko thought, I could show courtesy to others when I so desired.

Nishizumi-san and I parted ways as she went to tankery class. Still extremely groggy, I wandered off to lie down for a little while in the hopes of regaining some of my energy, and coming to class when I was ready. I ended up falling asleep in a field near the school, in the middle of reading a book.

* * *

I was awoken from my nap by a few loud blasts, what initially seemed like a car running, and a familiar voice calling out. Recognizing the urgency of the situation, I immediately snapped awake, like how people give their all when in desperate spots. I leaped atop the tank, and saw Nishizumi-san sticking her head out a side hatch; it seemed she remembered me, albeit because it was a short time ago. Then Saori poked her head out the top, and it seemed as though she knew Nishizumi-san; it turned out she was the friend Saori had mentioned.

I slumped into a vacant seat in the tank, feeling even more tired than usual because of the lack of oxygen in there and, in the process, my decision not to take tankery was seemingly reinforced.

We advanced onward to a bridge, and slowly moved onto it. Suddenly, the bridge swayed, and the tank was about to fall off, but a shell from the nearby StUG knocked us back onto the bridge. The driver of the tank, who turned out to be Saori's friend Hana, passed out, and, on an impulse, I jumped into the driver's seat and read the manual. Careful analysis had showed that each of the other three crew members had her own position, and rather than leave one forced to do two at once, it was time for me to pull my weight. Amazingly enough, we fended off the other four tanks, albeit due in part to the M3 Lee popping a tread, and our team won the match.

Of course, while I had helped them that one time, I thought it too much of a bother to do so on a regular basis. But Saori reminded me that I would otherwise get held back, and so for that reason and my debt to Nishizumi-san, I changed my mind. Perhaps it would be difficult to do tankery. But I soon heard from Saori that Miho- whom I began occasionally referring to by her first name half because Saori did and half because of our growing familiarity- was doing tankery in spite of her initial reluctance, for the sake of her friends. It seemed only fair that I should make a similar effort.

* * *

My determination faltered again some time later as I was told to participate in a tankery match against St. Gloriana, waking up at 5 a.m. and meeting for the battle at 6 a.m., far earlier than I wanted or needed to get up. Did they really need to do a practice match so soon? Did the match have to be early? And did they need me to drive for them? Driving seemed like such an easy thing to me, since Hana was doing a passable job for a beginner before I took over; surely they could find someone who found it easy to wake up at 5 in the morning? But Saori emphasized that I needed them, and that if I did not participate, my grandmother would be upset.

Some would argue that Saori was trying to browbeat me into participating at best, and emotionally manipulate me at worst. But I saw it as her wanting me to succeed, and being willing to get tough with me when she had to; I noticed that she often threatened to tell my grandmother, but never ended up having to follow through.

* * *

It took Saori trying to pull me out of bed, Yukari playing a bugle call, and Miho and Hana firing off a blank shell in the neighborhood for me to get up, and I ended up eating breakfast, brushing my teeth and getting dressed inside the tank. By the time I got to the battlefield and fully woke up, though, I decided that since I was there, and had already gotten up early, I might as well win and make my sacrifice of my morning sleep worthwhile.

But there are some things in life that can't be won through luck or resolve. St. Gloriana was simply better than we were, although Miho put in a good showing toward the end, taking out three of their tanks with our tank alone. But in the end, when their last tank went up against ours and had a final exchange of shells, ours was taken out of the game, and we were defeated. More than a few members of the team were left pondering what more they could do to ensure that the next match ended in victory, and to my surprise, I began thinking about the same thing.

After the match, I learned that the Student Council had said that we were to perform the Anglerfish Dance if we lost, a punishment they also took part in. Perhaps they enjoyed holding the threat of punishment above our heads, not knowing of any other way to motivate us and preferring sticks to carrots. Or perhaps this was their way of getting us to take it seriously, by having consequences that applied to all of us, and which they shared as well. Little did I know that there was an even more compelling reason for their participation, and this was the only match we could afford to lose.

After the Anglerfish dance finished, Saori and the others went shopping, while I excused myself to meet with my grandmother, who had expressed a desire to see me at some time that day after hearing that the Oarai school ship would be docking. She had not specified a time, but the match and the post-game had taken longer than I had anticipated, and I realized that she would be angry if I did not show up at all.

* * *

I got to Grandma's house, and we talked for some time while in the living room. Eventually, the conversation shifted to where I was that morning.

"By the way, where have you been all morning?" Grandma said. "The ship's been here since dawn, and you only showed up a little while ago?"

"Taking care of some stuff," I said evasively, unsure whether I should tell her about tankery, as well as whether she would believe me.

"Hmmph, you always did like to sleep in," Grandma said. "So what time did you get up, anyway?

"5 a.m." I said.

Grandma, for the first time in my life, stared slack-jawed, not knowing how to respond to that. One policy I've adopted is to never ask any question to which I do not want to know the answer, or if there's a chance that the answer is one that I will not like and do not need to know.

"I suppose you'll keep on insisting that it's true no matter what I say," Grandma said. "But did you do it by yourself, or with help from Saori-chan and/or someone else?"

"You could say that Saori and some of our friends helped me wake up," I said. The entire story seemed too much for her to swallow, even if nothing less could have woken me up so early.

"Good work," Grandma said halfheartedly if not sarcastically. "Now just keep it up and maybe that girl at the school gate won't constantly nag you. At least think of getting up as being easier than getting nagged all the time."

I glanced over to the clock. It was later than I had anticipated, and I had a deadline for getting back to the boat that would take us back to the Oarai school ship. In retrospect, I should have mentioned this to Grandma from the start, so that I would not seem to have been making up an excuse.

"Speaking of which, Grandma, if I don't get back to the ship now, that girl's going to jump down my throat."

"Always punctual when you want to get away from my lectures," Grandma said. "But even so, you should get going." I started to get up. "Still… I get the feeling you have changed, somewhat. I can't put my finger on how, but I know it; you'd never have said you'd woken up at 5 a.m., even as a joke, before today."

With a slight smile, and a "Nice seeing you, Grandma," I walked off, as Grandma responded with a nod.

* * *

As I got back to the boat that would take us to the Oarai school ship, I noticed Sodoko standing near the gangplank, taking attendance, as the sun was setting.

"That's a change... you're actually on time, unlike the rest of your team, Reizei-san," Sodoko said.

"What do you mean by that exactly, Sodoko?" I said.

Sodoko sighed, evidently not wanting to get sidetracked by my use of her nickname. She usually only complained when the only thing she had to do was continue yet another futile lecture over my lateness, having realized it was equally futile to try to get me to stop using it.

"The rest of Team Anglerfish- Nishizumi-san, Isuzu-san, Takebe-san and Akiyama-san- isn't back yet," she said. "Do you know anything about where they went?"

"They said they were going shopping while I went to meet with Grandma," I said. "But it doesn't seem like it'd take them this long."

Even at the time, something made me realize that the others weren't detained out of laziness or losing track of the time, especially when it took them a while longer to arrive.

"Whatever they're doing, they'd better get back here quickly," Sodoko said, and I could have sworn I detected a note of worry in her voice. "We have a departure time to keep."

"I'll wait here for them," I said.

After dark, the rest of Team Anglerfish reached the port and barely boarded the ship in time to return to the school. At the time, I dismissed it as nothing out of the ordinary, but I soon became curious about what had happened to make them late when I, of all people, had been on time.

* * *

"So why _were_ you and the others late?" I asked Saori as we sailed back to the school. Saori looked uncomfortable, an early indication that the subject I had asked about was, unbeknownst to me, fairly unpleasant.

"We ran into Hana's mom on the way back," Saori said. "When she found out Hana was doing tankery… she got mad and told Hana not to come home again."

Upon hearing this, I wondered if my not disclosing my participation in tankery while I was talking with Grandma happened to be a good move. Tankery had been in existence for almost a century, but its age did not preclude it from having many who disliked it, especially those such as the Isuzu family who followed longer-standing traditions and saw the recent if obsolete technology involved as distasteful.

"How's Hana doing?" I said.

"She's holding up surprisingly well, or at least is pretending to," Saori said. "She's convinced that her mom will come around eventually."

Maybe it was because Hana was more mature than I was back when my parents died, or merely older, but I couldn't help but be impressed by her willingness to forgive and reconnect with her mother. She was even willing to do so when, from all accounts, her mother had been the one to cast her out for what I considered a very petty reason. But intentions did not always translate into actions, and life had a way of interfering with even our best-intentioned plans and most benevolent acts.

* * *

I sought out Hana at the next possible opportunity, after a tankery practice session following our return to school, to speak with her alone.

"Hana," I said.

"Hello, Reizei-san," Hana said. "Is there something you would like to speak with me about?"

"Saori told me about what happened between you and your mother- how she disowned you over your doing tankery," I said. I'm sometimes described as overly blunt, but in this case, I saw no other choice but to get to the point.

"Ah, that," Hana said. Her expression turned sad for a moment, but then she forced a smile. "Please do not worry so much. I believe that someday, I will be able to make my mother understand. It might take a while, but I am sure I will succeed one day."

"Is that so?" I said. Hana's smile slipped as she noticed me looking at her intently. "Then, even if it will take a while, don't waste any time. Opportunities to mend fences have a way of being lost forever before you can notice."

"I understand…" Hana said, still looking somewhat unsettled at what I had said. "Thank you for your concern, Reizei-san."

"Don't mention it," I said. "See you later."

I had no intention of letting Hana part from her mother on bad terms, nor did I want her to delay reconciling with her mother long enough to risk losing the opportunity. And as I told her that, I instinctively felt an urge to check my cell phone for messages, knowing that at any moment, unpleasant news about my grandmother could come. There had been more incidents of my grandmother collapsing and being hospitalized since the first one, and I knew better than to expect that any of them would be the last. Indeed, if one was the last, it would be indicative of a possibility more terrible than I could imagine but ultimately inevitable coming to pass- my grandmother's death.

Even with these issues with which I had to contend, life went on, and more pressing, if not always more important, matters surfaced, whether in tankery, academics or other facets of everyday life. Gradually, balancing tankery with my studies became an act that was a lot of work but not as difficult as I had first expected. But my issues regarding my grandmother's condition were never on hold, and the next phone call I dreaded came when I least expected it.

* * *

**Omake**

The sound of my alarm clock woke me up, and I groggily pulled myself out of bed. It was significantly earlier than most Oarai students get up, and I was aware that I was rebelling against my body's desire to sleep in so that I could fulfill my duty as a member of the disciplinary committee.

Despite being half awake, I managed to eat my usual breakfast of toast, and change into my school uniform. The entire process was familiar to me, and was almost a matter of muscle memory. I then walked out of my apartment and toward Oarai, signing in at the main office and taking my post at the school gates.

Over my three years on the disciplinary committee, I saw many familiar faces come and go; my year-mates, my senpais who have now graduated, the returning second years and various new arrivals. Some stood out for various reasons, like the tall and athletic girls of the defunct volleyball club, the history club and their dress code-violating costumes, and most of all, the always tardy Reizei Mako-san.

Reizei-san had seemingly no regard for things like routine and the expectations associated with it. She almost never showed up on time. She showed no respect for me, her elder and senior. And her academic success despite her attitude was an affront against the virtue of hard work. If she was at the top of the class despite being lazy, while others struggled to pass, what did it say about trying hard? Were some destined to succeed easily while others doomed to fail no matter how hard they worked?

And worst of all, she only barely gave me her attention. It was as though I was hardly there, a fixture that was a mere annoyance to her. I took my job seriously, hoping to correct her and the others' behavior to enable them to succeed in school and in life, and she saw me as obsessed with rules that she deemed of no consequence.

Perhaps to her, I seemed like a slave to routine and authority. But if there were shackles on me, they were ones I had put on myself, and to which I possessed the key.

But I had to wonder- why did Reizei-san have her grandmother listed as her only contact? Might that be related to her tardiness and occasional absences? Perhaps she had been through much in the past, and so regarded the rules as trivial in comparison.

So while Reizei-san's conduct and attitude got on my nerves, I had a desire to learn more about the person behind those, and one day, enable us to understand each other.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

While Mako is initially reluctant to get involved with tankery, hearing about the credits during the video gets her attention. The main issue, as always, seems to be motivating her enough to do the work.

One thing I wonder about is why Saori did not interact with or make any references to Mako prior to them encountering each other during the match in Episode 3. It seems as though they're in different classes, but one would think they'd mention each other.

Mako visits her grandmother after the St. Gloriana match, and I decided to show it to illustrate a more normal interaction between the two, not colored by Mako's grief over her parents or her worry for her grandmother.

I personally believe that Mako, who wasn't present when Hana was disowned, but was present when Hana mentioned getting her mother to come to the match against Pravda, and when Hana and her mother reconciled (thus implying some knowledge of what was going on) would see a little of herself in Hana due to being at odds with family, and want her to reconcile with her mother before it was too late.


	7. Family Bonds

**Chapter 7: Family Bonds**

We continued practicing tankery, redoubling our efforts with the knowledge that we would have to win every match to advance onward, but not knowing what was truly at stake. For Team Anglerfish, there was a personal motivation as well. We had once met Miho's sister and her new vice captain, the former of whom seemed unusually aloof, and the latter of whom was quite condescending toward us, believing we had no chance. I wanted to take that arrogant girl and her school down a peg, since she reminded me of everything about Sodoko that got on my nerves, without her redeeming qualities or any apparent possibility of hidden depths. We also hoped that by defeating Miho's sister, we would show her that Miho's way of tankery, while different from her family's, was not an overly idealistic fantasy but a way by which she could win.

For that reason, and because it didn't involve getting up early, I stayed afterward with the others, doing extra practice on doing a tank. None of us had Miho's experience, and if her sister was even more experienced than she was, we had to get up to her level as soon as possible through hard work.

* * *

In our first match against Saunders we, through the results of our training and some clever tactical decisions, defeated one of the favorites to win the tournament, getting off to a promising start. I personally could hardly believe we'd managed such a thing, although I had never been very ambitious.

After the match had ended, as we prepared to leave, I got yet another call on my cell phone. I instinctively checked the number to see if it was any I recognized- whether from Grandma, the hospital, or anyone else- but it was different, causing me to hope that it wasn't any unpleasant news.

"Hello?" I said, picking up the phone.

"Reizei Mako-san? " an unfamiliar woman's voice said. "This is Dr. Kurosaki Yoko. Your grandmother has collapsed again."

"Huh?" was all I could say. This was not the first or second time it happened, but the feeling of fear that seized me was the same, as I remembered Dr. Ishida's grim predictions for the future.

"She's been taken to the hospital in Oarai. She's in critical condition."

"Okay…" I said.

"Please hurry..." she said, as I hung up the phone, having gotten everything she could tell me. The only good news in that call was that my grandmother was still alive and being treated. But how long would this be the case?

As my friends reacted in horror after my attempts at hiding my feelings fell flat when I dropped my phone, I began thinking of how to get to the hospital as quickly as possible, only to be stymied by the Oarai ship not being there. Unlike before, it was not a question of running over; the distance was more than one that would take too long to cross, but it was also across water, something I could not cross without a boat, a plane or something else of the sort. My hopes of reaching my grandmother in time lay in the hands of others, but at the moment, no assistance seemed to be forthcoming.

Swimming might have been impossible, but every minute I stood around was another minute wasted. When I was unaware how much time I had left, there was no such thing as an acceptable delay. With panic and desperation clouding my mind, I began to strip down, as my more level-headed friends tried to restrain me.

Then the last person whose help I expected among those able to help- Miho's sister- showed up offering to loan us her helicopter. It was apparently unplanned, given the other girl's shock and objection in response to it, and Miho's surprise at the gesture. Equally unplanned was Saori's decision to board the helicopter and accompany me to the hospital.

* * *

"Saori… thank you for coming," I said a few minutes after takeoff. I was glad to have her here, since the pilot of the helicopter was not a very good conversation partner, especially not after I had taken the wind out of her sails at the café, and ended up inadvertently roping her into flying me against her wishes this time.

"Mako, I'm sure your grandma will be all right now that they've taken her to the hospital," Saori said, almost trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince me.

"That's not the only thing I'm worried about this time," I said.

"What else could you be worried about at a time like this?" Saori said, somewhat incredulously.

"Miho," I said. "You were with me both times when we saw her sister. Surely you've noticed how awkward their encounters were?"

As much as Grandma and I bicker when we meet, it's because both of us have a certain comfort level around each other, that we can afford to be honest about how we feel, rather than putting on a polite facade for someone else. Miho was barely able to greet her sister, and her sister only seemed to express surprise that Miho was still doing tankery, rather than saying something like "Hi, Miho, how have you been?", something even a socially awkward person of few words like myself could reasonably manage. Miho was clearly unable to express herself fully to her sister, and I wondered if her sister was conveying the full extent of her feelings.

"I think so," Saori said. "Miporin got uncomfortable whenever her family or tankery brought up, so I changed the subject. I don't know anything more than what I've told you so far."

That seemed very much like Saori to do so, since she had done so a few times whenever the subject of my deceased parents came up, or the current conversation reached a point at which I would end up having to mention them.

"Naturally, all this seems to suggest that something happened between Miho and her family, and she wanted to deliberately separate herself from them," I said.

When I thought about it, with the maturity gained over several years, I was fortunate enough to have reasonably good parents, and my only regrets were not realizing this earlier and allowing myself to part from them on bad terms. But what memories would Miho have once her mom and sister passed on? If they unexpectedly died, would Miho remember her last conversation with either as being about their disapproval of her approach to tankery?

"Maybe that's the case, given Miporin's family did tankery, and she didn't like it at first," Saori said. "But Miporin's sister didn't know what happened to your grandmother until just a moment before she walked up, and given how the other girl reacted, it seemed to be a spur of the moment decision. It's likely that she wasn't trying to pretend to be anything or give off any image while doing that, and that's more indicative of how she really is,"

"That's possible," I said. "And it seems I now owe the older sister one."

* * *

When I reached the hospital, I realized the worst had been averted; my grandmother's condition had been stabilized. But I anxiously stayed awake in the waiting room, hoping that I would be able to hear the news the moment it came.

Saori, having had a long day, and facing a long wait for answers, soon gave out.

"Oh…. I'm so tired," Saori said, after stifling a yawn. "It might be best to get some sleep now while there's not any news coming."

"Go ahead," I said. "I can't sleep at the moment."

Saori turned to me with a concerned look in her eyes. She was good at telling when her friends were in pain, and when she did, she rarely called attention to herself having done so.

Thinking about how perceptive Saori was, I realized at that moment that the rest of my friends were likely to question why my parents were not even coming to visit my grandmother, or why I never talked about them.

"Oh, and Saori?" I said. "Miho and the others will probably ask about my grandma and my parents. You can tell them everything if you want.".

"Why not tell them yourself?" Saori said, slightly uncomfortable about speaking on my behalf.

"I'm not good at talking about such things," I said. "In my mind, I feel like I'm making excuses for myself when I do. The truth of the matter is, I made a mistake back then and I'm trying to make up for it now. I don't want, need or deserve their pity, but I believe they should know about this part of me."

"But for better or worse, you have been influenced by what happened," Saori said. "And I think it's admirable that you're willing to go so far for your grandma."

"Then perhaps you can say it better than I ever could," I said, touched by this simple, yet elegant description of the significance of the loss of my parents.

"Ok," Saori said, as she lay down with her head in my lap. "G'night, Mako…" she said, sleepily. "Wake me when there's news."

I didn't end up getting any sleep that night, even as Saori slept. This had happened to me in the past when I was worried about Grandma; I would be afraid to fall asleep out of the fear that I would wake up to unpleasant news about her.

An interminable wait later, I got some news.

"Reizei-san, your grandmother is awake and is ready to see you," a nurse said.

I was pleased to hear that Grandma had woken up. But as I woke up Saori and beckoned her to come with me, I began to wonder what I would see when I reached her. Just what were the extent of her injuries this time? Had she suffered any permanent damage? My imagination had a tendency to run wild at times like these, and I never liked what it came up with.

"I'm coming in, Grandma," I said, opening the door. I saw Grandma sitting up in bed, looking barely awake.

"Mako…. Saori-chan…. You came…" she said.

"Grandma…" I said.

An awkward moment passed, as Grandma stared at her two visitors, noticing the worry on our faces, and her expression turned worried as well. After several moments.

"What day is it today?" Grandma said.

"It's a Sunday," I said.

"So I suppose you didn't miss any school for this, this time" Grandma said. I could feel the tension draining from the room.

"Grandma, I'm late a lot, but I've only missed school about 12 times," I said.

"Most people have far less than that," Grandma said, her voice gradually rising. "When I was your age, I had perfect attendance!"

As much as Grandma needed rest and would not benefit from exerting herself, even orally, it was refreshing to hear her yell at me again.

* * *

A while later, the rest of Team Anglerfish showed up in Grandma's hospital room. Grandma was remarkably indifferent about my participation in tankery, although after hearing about what happened with Hana's mother, I counted myself fortunate for that. She wasn't going to cheer me on, but I could count on her not doing anything to interfere or make my participation more difficult, and I was grateful for that.

Grandma made an interesting point during our meeting- the rest of my team most likely was worried about me- their friend and teammate- as opposed to her- someone whom they described as "Mako's grandma," "Reizei-san's grandmother," or other terms that described her relation to me. Even Saori only met her through me. But I got the feeling that Miho was the kind of person who could care deeply for people she had only recently met, a trait her sister may well have shared. I was ultimately unable to contest that, although I was unable to express my thanks as eloquently as she desired.

Ultimately, Grandma insisted that we get going. As usual, Grandma disliked being pitied or people bending over backwards for her, especially when they had more important things to do- not only did I have my classes, but now there was tankery to do, and Grandma didn't want my absence to also impact my teammates. Satisfied with what I had been able to see and hear, and relieved for the moment, I decided to leave. Moments after I exited the room, I overheard Grandma, in a soft voice, express her gratitude to my friends for looking after me, which Miho graciously accepted. Perhaps she didn't want to express it with me around, but Grandma always cared for and appreciated my friends.

As I overheard what she was saying, I slowly transitioned from standing to leaning, from leaning to sitting, and from sitting to lying on my side, almost asleep. It was as though my body had borrowed from my reserves of stamina to stay awake this long, and was now paying it back with interest.

"Mako-san seems to have fallen asleep," Miho said, her voice coming through as I lay there, not fully asleep.

"She stayed up all night last night," Saori said. "It's a bit surprising she hasn't conked out before now, even considering the circumstances,"

"I'd like to let her sleep, but we do need to get back," Miho said.

"Then please leave Reizei-san to me," Hana said. She, a tall and surprisingly strong girl, lifted me onto her back, resulting in me partially waking up. She then placed something- which I think was her hat- on my head. As I settled into her lap, I began resting more comfortably and began drifting off to sleep.

As I slept, I overheard the voices of my teammates, as they discussed what had happened to my family. From what I heard, they did not regard me with pity, but seemed to be coming to understand the things I did not express, and the reasons behind my actions. I hoped my story would help Hana understand how important it was to reconcile with her mother soon, regardless of who was at fault for their estrangement. I hoped it would help Miho to realize that even if she was distant from her family, she still had them around, and with them being alive, the possibility to renew her bond with them. I hoped it would help Yukari appreciate her supportive, loving and living parents, if she did not already. Saori's gesture required not only a great amount of compassion, but also insight, and few possessed both in such quantities.

"_Saori chose her friends well,"_ I thought, as I slept.

* * *

Naturally, I ended up getting far less sleep than I needed, and had to be carried to school by Saori and Miho. As Sodoko's voice woke me up, I stumbled forward and hugged her, apparently not thinking anything of what I had done while I was half asleep. It was amusing seeing Sodoko's flustered and embarrassed reaction to this simple gesture of human affection, and I kept her reaction in mind for the future.

After we got back, we got to work preparing to fight Anzio in the second round. I found myself stepping up to the plate to help Miho again, this time to help tutor some of the other tankery members in driving. As I did when I tutored Saori long ago, I found it difficult to teach others while taking into account that they learned at a different pace. But we had to improve our performance to advance in the tournament, and it fell upon me to do it. Miho was overloaded with chores and requests from the team, and the rest of Anglerfish Team had to do what they could to help lighten her load.

"So why are a bunch of volleyball players doing tankery, anyway?" I asked the volleyball team, also known as Duck Team, during my lesson for them.

"We play volleyball, but the volleyball team got cut as a school club," their driver said. "What was it that the president said about that…?"

"She said, 'If we win the tournament, I'll be able to consider renewing it next year,' when I asked her about whether I could get the team restarted if we won the tournament," the captain said. "I pretty much came up on the idea on a whim after hearing that tankery was getting re-established when volleyball was getting cut. I thought, maybe they considered participation in tankery important for some reason and winning in it would help us."

I had the urge to laugh at their motivation, especially considering the president was a third-year, but as someone who participated for the credits and tardiness passes, among other reasons, I had no room to talk.

"Reizei-senpai, what about you?" the blonde member said.

"I suppose I'll have to admit that the credits and tardiness passes appeal to me," I said. "So between your goal and mine, as well as Saori's quest to find a guy and Rabbit Team's hopes of staying on good terms with the boys in their lives, I suppose, I'm not the only one with an ulterior motive."

"You could say that," the gunner said. "But this team works surprisingly well together, since we might have different desires, but we fulfill them the same way, by winning. Training hard day in and day out, winning as an underdog against some of your strongest rivals in the nation, doing it together with old and new friends- it's really like an athlete's dream come true!" She became progressively more excited as she told me about how much she enjoyed it, and ended with a whoop and a fist pump.

Saori had, around this time, told me that hot-blooded people rode in tanks, as I had observed that my low blood pressure had improved. I also felt myself getting caught up in their pace, and pushing myself farther. My teammates talked about being changed in different ways, especially Miho, who reported that she enjoyed tankery more than she used to. I suspected that tehere had been a time in the past when she had forced herself to do tankery; it was possible she and I were not so different in learning to like what we had to do.

So perhaps I was changing in response to the actions of those around me, especially when I was on a team with those who had little in common with me. But when I thought about it, I realized it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. My blood pressure becoming better enabled me to be more energetic during the day. Getting up on time became easier, and with it, coming to school on time. That which had seemed odious and overly difficult before was becoming more tolerable now, although I did not presume to believe that difficult times were behind me.

* * *

We defeated Anzio, a surprisingly unremarkable opponent except for their arrogant and competition-obsessed commander. At no point, however, did it occur to me to just let her have her victory she wanted so badly in order to appease her, as I might have in the past. She shrugged off Miho's suggestion that her comrades were most important, and said that if she believed that, she should put in all her efforts to secure victory for them. Miho couldn't quite accept that, but I think she understood the principle- that her actions influenced the fates of other people. I was also slowly beginning to realize this, as the quality of my participation in the tournament helped determine whether we would win and move on, or lose and drop out, and the entire team had to live with the consequences. Like when I tutored Saori, this was not something at which I could afford to fail; even if the time came when I had nothing to gain or lose, others were still counting on me.

Around that time, I learned that Miho had, while she was still in Black Forest during the last tournament, abandoned her flag tank to save the crew of another that had fallen into a river in the middle of a match. Apparently that was why her successor as vice captain greeted her with contempt, and the backlash against her decision was why she had chosen to leave Black Forest. Hearing the story made me wonder- were there really people who would abandon their comrades for the pursuit of victory in a mere national tournament? That degree of dedication- or rather, obsession- struck me as going beyond the degree I would dismiss as a sort of obnoxious zeal that people like Sodoko put into their pursuits, and coming off as something rather disturbing and potentially harmful to others. It was at this moment that I realized just how glad I was that Miho was my commander, and realized that people took things to worse extremes and for worse reasons than Sodoko's merely annoying and not necessarily uncompromising adherence to the rules.

* * *

Sodoko and the others volunteered for tankery after the match with Anzio, crewing the Char B1 Bis, instead of Yukari, Erwin and one of the Freshman Team's gunners, who had crewed it against Anzio. As expected, it hurt Sodoko's pride to accept help from me, who was late all the time. Could she look down on me for being late if she was depending on my help? What did it say about her that she would have to turn to me for help on such a matter?

Still, it was a nice development for her. She swallowed some of her pride in accepting help from me, and in so doing, became more bearable. Perhaps for her, this was something she had to bear with the same way I had to deal with getting up early. In that regard, we were not so different, making sacrifices for our participation in tankery, and I think we were beginning to understand each other.

As we prepared for our semifinals match with Pravda, I realized something was amiss. The Student Council, including the usually laid-back president, was uncharacteristically adamant that we had to win, even though few of us seriously expected to take first place in our first year, and most of us, while interested in getting first place, did not have a compelling desire to do so. We understood tankery well enough to see how prestigious winning the tournament was, but saw it beyond our reach, much like a mountaineer saw climbing Mount Everest. Granted, the student council, being third-years, would not have another chance at this school, but they seemed unusually desperate. Miho told me that they had invited her to dinner to discuss something with her, but she came away as ignorant about what was going on as everyone else was. She seemed poor at keeping secrets, and moreover, not even putting the effort to do so in this case, so I had no reason to doubt that if anyone was withholding information, Miho was not one of them.

Pravda's match initially seemed to go well, but we fell into a trap. Cornered in a building, we were given three hours to surrender. Miho, deciding that continuing would put the students at risk of coming to harm in the ensuing shootout, considered surrendering. I sympathized with her motives; there are limits to how far you can persevere, and I had to wonder just how important winning was, anyway.

It was at that point that the student council revealed the true reason for their desperation- if Oarai did not secure first place in the tournament, the school would be shut down. Miho had come to call Oarai home, and not wanting to lose that home, and realizing that more people besides herself and even the tankery team would be affected by her defeat or surrender, chose not to surrender and instead decided to have us prepare to resume the fight over the course of the three hours.

Sodoko and I teamed up once again, to scout out the enemy tanks, succeeding in finding the number, positions and models of the Pravda tanks, although we were detected by the enemy in the process. The Oarai tankery program, if nothing else, brought together people who would otherwise not have interacted, for a common purpose.

Even with that common purpose and the newly found sense of urgency, the morale of the team gradually declined, especially those who had nothing to do but sit around in the cold and wait to resume action, all while tormented by doubt and despair. No one wanted the school to close, and many of us had separate goals we hoped to accomplish through tankery. But we were hungry, tired and cold, and worst of all, we were losing hope in victory, especially with defeat seeming inevitable and a stronger opponent waiting in the next match.

But then Miho did the unexpected and led us in the Ankou Dance. After a moment, everyone instinctively understood what she was trying to get across. The Student Council had proposed that we do the dance if we lost to St. Gloriana, as a way of motivating us. But they too chose to take part when the time came, signifying that they too shared in our defeat and its consequences. Miho led by example, and got everyone else to follow her, no matter how humiliating what she did was, or how hopeless the battle seemed. And when the messenger came back minutes later, everyone was willing to follow Miho into facing Pravda High. We all trusted her to lead us to victory while protecting us, and she succeeded at both.

When we saw Pravda's commander, Katyusha, again, her ego was deflated, and she calmly and graciously accepted defeat. Perhaps this was proof that people could recognize when they were defeated and change their minds when something happened to sufficiently upset their worldview.

Katyusha was not the only one to change her mind in a way we never had thought possible, though.

* * *

On a Saturday before the final round of the tournament, Hana met her mother again at a flower exhibition, and her mother was willing to accept her new approach to flower arranging, as well as the role tankery played in it.

After her admission of her change of heart, she began talking with Hana amicably about the flower arrangement and other things. Perhaps this was their usual form of interaction, like Grandma and I were brutally honest with each other; it fit a polite and traditional woman the same way my relationship fit a cranky and bitter old woman. Perhaps Hana had always believed her mother would come around, and rightly so.

"Oh, and before I forget, Mother," Hana said. "This is Reizei-san, one of my friends and teammates from tankery. You met Nishizumi-san, Takebe-san and Akiyama-san before, but not her." Hana, while always well-mannered, seemed a touch more formal and polite, even concerning her friends, when in her mother's presence.

"Nice to meet you," I said, bowing, and Hana's mother did the same.

"Likewise, Reizei-san," Hana's mother said, before turning to Miho. "And Nishizumi-san?"

"Yes, ma'am?" Miho said.

"This may sound like an odd thing to apologize for, considering recent events, but I would like to say that I am sorry for what I said earlier. Not only was it no way to act toward my daughter, but Shinzaburou told me about your family's feats in tankery, and it must have seemed quite rude to you to have them talked about so dismissively."

"Hmm…" Miho said. "Actually… I don't mind, maybe because I don't think I'm a very 'good' Nishizumi. I left tankery for a while because I couldn't win at all costs like my mother demanded. I got involved again because, ironically, your daughter, as well as Saori-san, was willing to defend my decision not to, and I wanted to be in the same class as the two of them."

"Hana-san has, as I said before, always upheld the Isuzu style, but until now, her flowers were, although aesthetically pleasing, unoriginal and formulaic," Hana's mother said. "I may not know much about tankery, but perhaps new influences and new ideals may be necessary to revitalize your family's school. I also believe that when it comes down to it, your mother loves and cares about you; perhaps given the right reminder, she will be able to remember this. As my anger subsided, I realized how much I had wronged my daughter, and how much I missed her. Perhaps your own mother could make a similar realization under the right circumstances."

"Thank you, ma'am," Miho said.

"I must be off soon," Hana's mother said. "Again, Hana-san, please accept my apologies, as well as my congratulations over your defeating Pravda, and my wishes for good luck against Black Forest."

"Thank you, Mother," Hana said, touched. After an exchange of bows between daughter and mother, her mother left.

Hana's mother reminded me of mine in a few regards. She was sometimes emotional and had a tendency to take it personally when her daughter didn't do as she said, but deeply cared for and believed in her daughter. There were few things that brought me greater joy than seeing that Hana had succeeded where I had failed, and mended her relationship with her mother.

But while Hana's family issues had been resolved, Miho still had to deal with hers. Perhaps a victory over her sister would convince their mother that Miho was not weak or incompetent, and would convince her sister to accept her and her way of tankery.

As we headed to the final battle, I realized I was fighting for many reasons other than my own personal desires and obligations. This team had many people who joined for many different reasons, but we shared victory and defeat. Failure was something none of us could accept, and victory was something that would require all of our full efforts to achieve, including mine. And for these reasons, even if it was troublesome, tiring or unpleasant, I resolved to go as far as I needed in order to win.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Thank you for the reviews.

severstal: Yes, I believe she chose it because it seemed easiest, although I suspect that she, like Miho (who has given relatively little indication of being interested in her pre-tankery choice, incense), didn't put too much thought into that choice.

I wrote Mako's phone call from the hospital in Episode 6 to match the dialogue that we heard Mako talking about (which gives no conclusive indication to the friends as to what she's talking about or who she's talking to), as well as the approximate silences in each of the caller's responses.

Yuri makes an interesting contrast to Shiho for a few reasons. She's typically warmer and more caring toward Hana than Shiho is, and gets along better with her friends ("It's good to see that you're doing well. Could you introduce me to everyone" vs. "So Miho's here as well." and later "And who are these girls? I believe I instructed Kikuyo to send them away."). Even during the disowning scene, Yuri tries to convince Hana that her flower arrangement is good according to the Isuzu style, and seems worried that something is troubling Hana. Shiho, by contrast, considers Miho a disgrace to the family. Her disowning Hana seems to be a spur of the moment decision while she's upset, while Shiho's decision to disown or threaten to disown Miho seems to be one she gave a lot of thought to. As such, it's not unreasonable for Hana to believe that her mother will reconsider.

The scene between Mako and Saori in the helicopter was originally planned as a one-shot to explore what they talked about, and why Mako worries about Miho, as Saori told Miho in Episode 7.

Doctors Kurosaki and Ishida are named after Ichigo and Uryu's fathers from Bleach. Dr. Kurosaki's given name is derived from Yoko Sagisawa, the nurse from Mai-Hime (alternatively, Yoko Helene of Mai-Otome).

I've noticed Japanese makes it slightly more complex for kids to politely talk to their friends' parents, especially considering that you might be on a last-name-basis with said friends (Miho's still calling Hana "Isuzu-san" around the time she meets Yuri for the first time).

This was a fairly long chapter, since it essentially covered almost half the series (Episodes 5-10), but I liked where it started and ended, as it looked at the theme of family in the series. There will be two more chapters- one dealing with the finals and a concluding chapter.


	8. Holding Nothing Back

**Chapter 8: Holding Nothing Back  
**

The greatest challenge was still ahead of us. We had to defeat Black Forest, the school that had won nine consecutive times in the past, until the last tournament. But while Miho's decision to save the flag tank had played a role in their loss, I saw it as proof that they were not invincible, that a single well-placed shell on their flag tank was all we needed to win, and that winning was possible no matter the odds, as long as we had a shell, an opportunity to take a shot and a tank that could make the shot. I also saw it as proof that she cared for those who served under her, and was willing to make sacrifices and difficult decisions for what truly mattered.

Everyone redoubled their efforts to prepare for the final battle. We continued practicing, working out our weaknesses and trying to close the gap between ourselves and our mostly more experienced rivals. We fielded two new tanks and upgraded our Panzer IV and Pz38. Saori was no exception, as she asked for my help so that she could study for a Level 2 Radio Operator license, and I agreed to help her.

* * *

"So what exactly brought on your interest in studying for the exam?" I asked Saori. "You didn't try anything like this before."

"Well, the enemy's tougher this time, and considering what's at stake, I figured I had to do what I could to help out," she said. "I may not be the commander like Miporin is, but my role is one I hope to do as well as I can for all our sakes."

Saori had changed a great deal regarding her understanding of tanks. She had reportedly, when assigned with divvying up the roles, wondered why the tank needed so many people to operate, and didn't know how the shells were to be loaded. Now, she was able to understand and appreciate some of the finer points of one's individual role in the tank, commanding a tank and leading a team of multiple tanks. Tankery was no longer something she did in the hopes of meeting a boy, but something that she took seriously, and her resulting increase in competence was proof of her efforts bearing fruit.

The same went for everyone else, who, except for Miho and possibly Yukari, had started out as amateurs, and plunged headlong into something unfamiliar to them. In retrospect, it seems odd to remember that none of them, except the Student Council, knew about the school's existence being on the line, considering how hard they had worked and how much they had improved. And, for the most part, I was no exception.

"Anyway, Mako, I'm having a bit of trouble understanding this part..." Saori said, pointing to a passage in one of the books she had borrowed.

"Really?" I said, then proceeded to summarize it. Over the years, I had gotten used to helping Saori study, but explaining things in terms she could understand was still something of a challenge for me.

"Oh, I get it now!" Saori said. "Thanks, Mako, how did you understand it so easily?"

"I just started looking it over around the time you told me you wanted to study," I said. "I have to do my part here, too."

For Saori, this was about being able to help her friends or her school. For me, as her friend, and as someone who shared her goals, I decided to do what I could to help her, no matter how seemingly small the assistance would seem, or how difficult it would be for me.

* * *

Saori took and passed her radio license exam. We managed to field two more tanks for the final battle, and find students to crew both of them. While their crews had never seen actual competition before, they started at the same point most of us did, and would have to rise to the occasion regardless of their inexperience. While many of our preparations seemed hasty and last-minute, so was the entire idea of winning a tournament in our first year. And yet, except for St. Gloriana, we had been able to defeat the tournament opponents we had faced until now, when few had expected us to do so, and had only gotten stronger since then.

I knew that despite our preparations, our chances of victory were slim, but winning this battle was crucial to me for several reasons. If I lost, we would lose our chance to prove to the arrogant Black Forest vice captain that our school, seemingly unworthy to enter the tournament, could triumph against the reigning champion of Japan. If I lost, I would do so in front of my grandmother, the person I hoped would acknowledge my efforts. If I lost, I would likely not qualify for the tardiness passes and extra credits, which would likely result in my repeating my second year. If I lost, I would be separated from the others. And if I lost, I would fail to protect the school. The stakes were higher than ever, so this was no time to hold back or be a burden to others.

Getting fired up about this was a new sensation for me; if not for what was at stake, it would have seemed enjoyable. But I realized that Saori was right, and that life is more bearable and more fun if you don't see it as a series of obstacles to be overcome through as little effort as possible.

* * *

During the finals, Miho's plan- formulated to best utilize the strength of our own tanks while exploiting the weaknesses of Black Forest's- seemed to go well, or at least as well as we could reasonably expect- until Rabbit Team stalled in the water. Would Miho choose to press on, without Rabbit Team's help and while leaving them in danger? Or would she risk the victory we all sought in order to save them?

Miho, as always, chose the hard way to do things- saving Rabbit Team while continuing to try to win the tournament. I acknowledged the difficulty, but I realized that if I were to always take the easy path through life, I would never have gotten here. I ultimately had to respect Miho's decisions. She was not taking the easy way out by avoiding the Nishizumi Style, but choosing to do things her own way, even if they were difficult and less conventional than the alternative. It was for this cause that I was willing to put everything I had into winning.

But we were not out of the woods yet, as we soon came face to face with a Maus, one of the largest tanks in history. Its armor repelled all our initial frontal attacks, and its cannon took out Mallard and Hippo Team in rapid succession. Sodoko called me over the radio, promising to wipe my slate clean if I was able to win. Making such an offer seemed completely unlike her, since I had imagined she had been against offering tardiness passes, but it was also the only thing she could do for us at the moment, now that her tank had been taken out. She didn't need to, as I was no longer fighting solely for my own sake, but I understood and appreciated the gesture.

For this cause, when Miho asked me to perform a drift with our tank in order to get behind her sister's tank for a kill shot, I gave her fair warning that the track would snap, leaving us vulnerable to a counterattack should we miss, but then focused all my efforts on simply carrying it out. As I slid the tank behind her sister's tank, and Hana aimed and fired, a loud boom erupted from the cannon, then several moments passed in silence, before we noticed the white flag on the enemy flag tank.

The strategy had worked. Oarai had defeated Black Forest, the school that had dominated the national tankery tournament for almost a decade, and had saved itself from being shut down.

* * *

After the match, Sodoko, in front of my eyes, produced her hand-held computer and called up my attendance records. I had heard we were promised up to 200 absence credits, but she went even farther, taking off not only my 251 tardiness demerits, but also my 12 unexcused absences.

Everything I was thinking about faded to the background as I realized that, as I was going now, nothing would stop me from graduating on time. And even that faded from my mind as I impulsively rushed forward and hugged her.

"Thank you, Sodoko!" I yelled.

"Hey..." Sodoko said, taken aback.

I then heard a soft giggle behind me, which sounded slightly familiar.

"What's so funny, Gomoyo?" Sodoko said, glancing over my shoulder.

"Nothing, Sodoko," Gomoyo said. "It's just nice seeing Reizei-san so happy with you; she must be really grateful."

"Yep!" I said.

"Yes, but there are… rules… about PDAs and…" Sodoko trailed off from her listing the rules- the desperate habits she clings to when she could think of nothing else- as I began to notice that her face was turning a color that matched the sunset. "You're welcome, Reizei-san," she said with a small smile.

* * *

Miho spoke with her sister after the match, and, to my surprise, I heard that Miho's sister apparently approved of her way of tankery even though it was different from what she and the rest of her family practiced, simply smiling when she heard Miho declare that she had chosen her own path. Even the arrogant and condescending vice-captain seemed to take the loss in stride; perhaps suffering defeat, as unpleasant to her as getting up on time was for me, was a necessary step for her to build character.

"I was wrong about your sister," I said to Miho on the way back. "She seems like a kind person,"

"She is," Miho said with a smile. "She's always been watching over me, living up to being Nishizumi heiress so that I don't have to. Sometimes she acts distant to me because of the pressures of being heiress, but she's always thinking of and caring for me, even when she can't express it."

"Have you ever properly thanked her for it?" I asked Miho.

"I did, once," Miho said. "But she said that simply seeing me happy and living life my own way was enough for her, 'its own reward,' as she put it."

"It can't hurt that she also knows you appreciate it," I said.

I think Miho knew the implications I was making about my own family, in particular the less than overt way Grandma showed affection and the way I had failed to show gratitude to my mother in the past, but chose not to bring it up, much like how Saori skillfully distracted people from uncomfortable subjects. There would be time to dwell on these matters later, but now was the time to enjoy our collective and personal victories.

* * *

The Oarai spectators turned out in droves, both for the celebration after the game and the victory parade through town the next day. Even those who did not know that our victory had allowed their school to remain in operation, and who did not have friends or family participating were thrilled to see their school triumph over Black Forest, and win the tankery tournament in its first time after two decades of not doing tankery.

Grandma was no exception, as I saw her look on with a smile and wave to me.

"Congratulations, Mako!" she called out, unable to think of any of her usual jabs, and entirely unwilling to say anything else, or anything more. Surely she had realized that I had committed myself to something no ordinary high school student could accomplish, and had put in tremendous amounts of effort to achieve that goal.

I was in perhaps the best mood I had been in a long time. We had won a national tankery tournament. My record had been cleared, leaving smooth sailing toward graduation at my current rate of attendance and punctuality. Both Miho and Hana had resolved their family issues. And for the moment, I had impressed my grandmother, showing that even if I wasn't quite ready to care for her yet; I could accomplish great things for the sake of myself and others. Perhaps in my doing so, I would ensure that she could be satisfied with the effort she had put into raising me after my parents died.

But in the weeks that passed since the finals, as I pondered what Miho had said, I thought of one other person who had, in her own way, been there for me, someone whom I had not thought of as doing so until now. And as the window of opportunity to speak with her would soon close, I had to soon decide how to express what I wanted to say to her, and say it in a way that would best convey my gratitude. I resolved that this time, I would not fail to say what I wished or allow myself to say anything I did not mean, but would express all of my feelings to the fullest extent.

* * *

**Omake**

As the rest of the disciplinary committee and I- members of Mallard Team- lay in our disabled Char B1Bis, we were left wondering how things had come to this. Nishizumi-san's plan had seemed like a good one at the time, to escape from the overwhelming might of Black Forest and attack them from a more suitable area. But we were going from the frying pan to the fire, as we stood face to face with the Maus, the largest superheavy tank ever made in the World War II era.

The Maus stood tall and lumbered forward without a care as to what was in its path. It only stopped turning its turret because of the building in its way, almost as if it expected that the building would give way and enable it to turn its gun. It moved with such arrogance, reminding me of Reizei-san's pride in her own intelligence and seemingly thinking herself above the rules, but without the compassion and selflessness she often showed to her grandmother, her friends, and even those who got on her nerves. Vexed beyond my breaking point, I ordered us to fire on it and put it in its place.

The shell bounced off the frontal armor of the Maus like a tennis ball against a brick wall. In the next moment, with contemptuous ease, the Maus fired its cannon, flipping our tank over and taking off its tracks. Even if the flag had not come up, our tank was no longer able to fight or move. Perhaps the Maus crew's confidence in their superiority was justified to an extent.

The remaining tanks retreated while futilely attempting to shoot down the Maus. Hippo Team, whom I had previously berated over their costumes only to receive a snarky blow-off worthy of Reizei-san, also tried to fire on the Maus, and were defeated just as easily. The school's fate lay in the hands of its five remaining tanks, most of all, our flag tank, Anglerfish's Panzer IV Ausf. D. This was the end of my efforts to keep the school open, and now I would have to entrust this task to my comrades, seeing as how I was not skilled enough to do anything more to affect the outcome.

But if Reizei-san was arrogant, might the same apply to me? Might I have prided myself on being a "good" student and citizen, and thought that mattered above all else? Now, my tankery skills- the only thing that mattered at this moment- had failed me, and I could only depend on Reizei-san and the others.

Swallowing my pride, I called out to Reizei-san over the radio, offering her a clean tardiness record. She had made compromises and sacrifices, and invested a great deal of time and effort into our quest to win the tournament. Considering what it meant for her to do that, my making a compromise here, with this much at stake, was the least I could do for her and this school.

* * *

**Author's Notes  
**Interestingly enough, Mako having 245 tardies at her debut and 251 tardies at the end could suggest that she's put some effort into improving her attendance.

Maho's characterization as caring about Miho and wanting her to find her own way of tankery comes from Little Army. In "Off The Path" I wrote an entire chapter detailing Maho's perspective on Miho's decision in the last tournament, that goes into more detail about it. It's also possible that Mako and the rest of Team Anglerfish made note of this part of Maho's personality, after hearing her talk with Miho in Episode 12.

Sodoko's offering Mako a clean tardiness record can be seen as motivated by 1)the fact that she realizes Mako is one of those who has the school's fate in her hands, while she can no longer do anything herself, 2)being forced to swallow her pride in the face of her defeat by the Maus, another reason she and Mako are not as different as they initially thought.

There will be one more chapter, as an epilogue of sorts after the events of the series, providing a conclusion and wrapping up Mako's development throughout the fic.


	9. Parting Is Not The End

**Final Chapter: Parting Is Not The End**

"Come on, Mako, wake up!" Saori said as she tried to pull the covers off of me on the last day of the academic year.

"Ugh… so early," I said, too sleepy to form a coherent sentence. Even half-asleep as I was, I knew this was significantly earlier than I usually got up.

"You asked me to get you up early today, remember? This might be your last chance to talk to Sodoko!"

I yawned and slowly rose to my feet, remembering my reason for getting involved in this. It had taken me too long to realize this, and now that I not only had an opportunity, but no likely future chances, I would not procrastinate or get cold feet.

"Come on, think of the look on Sodoko's face when you show up before her," Saori said.

As I quickly got ready in spite of my drowsiness, I realized that this was something Sodoko did every day, a routine she kept up on good days and bad. Now that I was doing things at her pace, I gained an appreciation for the difficulty of doing so; maybe Sodoko would have slept in if she had the choice. Perhaps Mom wanted me to realize that in doing things on other people's terms, I would come to understand them, part and parcel of becoming friends with them.

Getting up every day for school was mandatory. Tankery was something I had chosen myself, albeit largely so that I could graduate on time, and not knowing about early morning matches- I think the same went for Sodoko and the disciplinary committee. But this time, I had chosen to get up earlier than I was required to on my own for the sake of doing something important, and for all I found it difficult, I was not going to let that deter me this time.

* * *

Fairly soon after we reached the school, Sodoko walked up to the gate, but came to a stop as she stared at me, her mouth gaping in surprise. After a moment, she regained her composure and turned to Saori.

"Takebe-san, is my watch slow, or has Reizei-san gotten in earlier than I did?" Sodoko said.

"Mako asked me to wake her up early today," Saori said. "She said she had something to talk to you about before you graduated."

"That's correct," I said. "To be exact, I don't think I ever properly thanked you."

"For deleting all the records of you being late or absent?" Sodoko said. "On the contrary, you gave a rather…. touching… 'thank you' to me for that back at the finals." Sodoko blushed a little as she recalled what had happened, but I think I saw her smile.

"No, not that," I said. "Every day, you've been out there, taking attendance, nagging me about being late. For a long time, I thought it was a pain, but I've thought about it in a new light and… you didn't want me to get held back, did you?"

"Well, this is part of my job," Sodoko said. "Disciplinary committee members are duty bound to make sure that all students receive equal treatment in accordance with the rules. Punishing them is merely an option of last resort to convince them and others to follow the rules by showing that it's good for all of us when they do, and that what they could gain by breaking the rules is more than offset by the punishment. Above all else, this is a school, and by doing what you're told and following the rules, you will learn what you need to know to be a good citizen and have a fulfilling life."

I furrowed my brow. Sodoko, not unlike Grandma, was the type to perform acts of kindness and make excuses like that.

"Is that it?" I asked expectantly.

Sodoko sighed and paused before resuming, apparently getting down to the heart of the matter.

"But yes, Reizei-san, there is a personal element to it," Sodoko said. "I have, to be honest, been a little jealous of you. I get good grades, but I have to spend a long time studying to do well on tests. You put far less effort in, and you're on top of the class. I thought, why did you get so much more out of your effort than I did? But then I thought of it differently- how far would you get if you put your entire effort in? What could you accomplish for yourself and for others? In the tankery tournament, we saw that answer- you helped drive the tank, and in that final drift against Nishizumi-san's sister's tank, you helped save our school. For that, I'm indebted to you, and believe that for trying so hard and succeeding at something that benefits all of Oarai, you don't deserve to be held back over something as comparatively trivial as your tardiness."

I took a moment to ponder the significance of what Sodoko had said. She had laid herself bare, showing, among other things, that the rules were not absolute to her, just as I was able to motivate myself to apply myself to certain tasks, and rise to certain challenges. The time had come for me to be honest with her about myself and my reasons for coming to speak with her.

"While we're giving confessions," I said, "I have another one to make. You personally remind me of two other women in my life."

Saori glanced at me with a sympathetic expression on her face. Clearly she understood where this was going. I simply nodded and continued.

"The first is my grandmother, Reizei Hisako," I said. "She has quite a temper, but she wants what's best for me, most of all for me to learn how to take care of myself so that I can one day care for others."

"Ah, her," Sodoko said. "I recall her being listed as a contact for you. I honestly had to wonder what had happened, especially on the day you showed up with that letter, but I decided that your… family circumstances weren't any of my personal or professional business unless you decided to tell me."

"The second is my mother," I said. "She was much like you and Grandma in how she always kept nagging me to try harder and live up to my full potential, even though I didn't see why I needed to back then. One day, I took it personally and got in a fight with her, and when I left for school, we were angry at each other."

I took a deep breath as I prepared to say the most painful part, the part that was most difficult to admit to myself and others. This gesture of mine was nothing if not difficult for me, though, so I decided that I had to tell Sodoko everything.

"That was the last time I spoke with her. Later that day, she and Dad were killed in an auto accident."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Reizei-san…" Sodoko said, with the same tenderness in her voice that she had showed when she apologized after reading the letter from Dr. Ishida. "But why would you tell me all this?"

"There is a reason I chose to do so _now_, Sodoko," I said. "I parted with Mom on bad terms, not knowing it would be the last time we spoke. Grandma might not live much longer; I don't know if she'll die years from now or today. The one thing that scares me more than getting up early, heights, ghosts or my grandmother's wrath is parting from someone who cares about me without acknowledging my appreciation for that care."

Saori, Sodoko and I remained silent for several moments, as Sodoko contemplated what she had heard. Finally, she, with a thoughtful expression on her face, cleared her throat and spoke.

"I understand what you're saying, Reizei-san, but I think you're wrong about one thing," Sodoko said.

"What's that?" I said, honestly having no idea what Sodoko was implying.

"This doesn't have to be the last time we hear from each other," Sodoko said, then produced a business card. I glanced it over, and saw her name, her position on the disciplinary committee and her contact information. It was very neat and professional, and as such, quite like her. "Feel free to stay in touch."

"Sure thing," I said, then opened my bag, produced a pen and a scrap of paper, and wrote my e-mail address on it. It had seemed like a hassle for me to get business cards, something that I considered to not be worth my time or money unless I became a professional who gave out her contact information on a regular basis.

"Thank you, Reizei-san," Sodoko said.

"No problem," I said.

Sodoko and I glanced around for a moment, and after seeing Saori looking on with a smile, and Gomoyo, who had recently arrived, doing the same, I noticed that students were starting to come in. I thus decided it was time to get going.

"I'll be going now," I said. "I've said everything I wished to. Thank you for listening, Sodoko."

"I'll see you later, Reizei-san," Sodoko said. "But keep in mind- Gomoyo and Pazomi are going to be watching over you next year, so you'd better keep coming to school on time."

"Gotcha," I said, as Saori and I entered the school ahead of most of the other students.

Maybe we can't know the future. Our lives or those of the people we care about can suddenly end. Our personality or place in life can end up being very different than what we expected. And there are times when we may have to challenge ourselves or go against the flow in order to get what we want or do the right thing. The road ahead in tankery has and will involve challenges greater than dragging myself out of bed in the morning. But it's also possibly the most fulfilling exercise I've ever been in; I've started to realize what they meant when they said it was good to help women develop their character.

I may never be able to apologize to Mom. But I can make up for my outburst by living up to her potential, acting kindly to others, and becoming the woman she always thought I would be. She would never be able to see it, but she had always believed it would happen, and for both our sakes, it was up to me to prove that she was correct in her belief.

As I yawned and rubbed my eyes, hoping to stave off the drowsiness from waking up early and dreading having to deal with an entire school day ahead, I realized that this task I had chosen for myself would not be easy by any stretch of the imagination, least of all for someone like me. But I knew that there were things worth trying hard for, and I was prepared to go at any pace necessary to achieve them.

* * *

**Epilogue**

This is not the final installment in the story of my life. At this point, I still have a year to go in high school, with many tests, tankery battles and other experiences during that time. My grandmother is still alive. Even my growth as a person will continue, after my decision to work to overcome my own vices and routines in order to accomplish great things.

And so I close this volume of the story of my life knowing that it is not an end, but a beginning, and that there is much in the future that has yet to be decided. Some things cannot be changed, but the rest are up to me. I look forward to striving toward, and ultimately seeing, the outcome.

_Reizei Mako_

* * *

**Author's Notes**  
Thank you for reading this fic and for the reviews.

This chapter was originally a one-shot I had planned, as part of a series showing certain characters as they graduated from school- Sodoko in this case, as it would show how her relationship with Mako changed over time. However, as I decided to make a longer story about Mako, I decided to include this scene at the end to sum things up about how much Mako has changed. She's willing to put in more effort in pursuit of the goals. She's able to recognize when people care about her, even when it's not always obvious. She's also become more comfortable talking about herself, even difficult subjects. It also recognizes that this process has just begun for her; tankery has played a significant role in it, but there will be more developments to come in the future.

Mako's perspective is after the events of the series, but not after the second series. This was largely meant to show her looking back on events with more perspective, to contrast her perspective at the time of the telling with her perspective at the time the events occurred. It can be interesting seeing how characters look back on certain events, especially when they've gone through character development since then.


End file.
